


under wraps

by printician



Category: Supermega RPF, Youtube RPF
Genre: (it's not focused on heavily tho), 5+1 Things, Also kind of, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Internalized Homophobia, Lots of Touching, M/M, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Pining, Ryan loves matt so much but matt is STUPID, Unrequited Crush, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-03
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:02:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 23,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27861226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/printician/pseuds/printician
Summary: Ryan is kind. Ryan is good. Ryan brings him coffee when he's tired and carries him up the stairs when he's drunk. Ryan is living rent free in his mind, and Matt is starting to think that's not quite normal.Essentially a 5+1, but there's more than six scenes. There is really no plot other than Matt is pining, Ryan is a sweetheart, and they are both very stupid.
Relationships: Ryan Magee/Matt Watson
Comments: 31
Kudos: 54





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, this is my first try at RPF. The scenes may or may not be in chronological order, please be gentle. Title is from the song Darling by Christian Leave. Also if you work at S*permega and you read this I'll bite all my fingers off and mail them to you.

Matt’s arms ached, his shoulders felt practically inflamed every time he reached up to put something on the shelf. They’d been hauling boxes all day, and the giddy excitement of moving to a new place had long since worn off. He was putting away dishes, the overwhelming stench of multipurpose cleaner pouring from all the freshly wiped cabinets. The windows were all thrown wide to try and combat the sticky heat the apartment seemed practically feverish with, and he could hear the honk and hum from the road without even straining his ears. There was a very sad little part of him that missed those South Carolina sounds, the screeching of katydids and crickets instead of V6 engines and wino a cappella, missed how his ears were so good at tuning them out. Still lost in his own head, he passed a slippery-wet mug to himself at just awkward enough of an angle that it slipped out of his grasp and cracked open on the metal basin of the sink. He groaned loudly to himself, glaring at the ceramic mess in front of him, and stomped off to find a paper bag. 

Ryan was in the “office”, which was the corner of the living room they’d decided to relegate entirely to their mountain of video recording equipment. He was still untangling wires, sat criss-cross on the floor like he was in grade school, brow furrowed as he separated two equally long HDMI cables. 

“How’s the dishes?” Ryan asked, not looking up from his work as Matt rifled through boxes until he found an acceptable broken glass container.

“I’d trade jobs in half a fucking second.” Matt replied off hand, already on his way back to the corpse of his ‘Daddy’s favorite foal’ mug. Ryan had gotten it for him for his birthday last year, and now it was sitting in sixteen pieces in their first shared apartment. Some friend he was. 

He was carefully dropping pieces of it into the paper bag when he heard Ryan come up behind him, peering over his shoulder into the sink. 

“Don’t look at my shame,” Matt whined, trying especially hard not to cut himself now that Ryan was watching. Which, of course, meant that when the last piece slipped out of his hands it sliced into the meaty, fleshy part of his palm as he tried to catch it, dark blood beading instantly along the outline of the cut. “Fucking— I told you not to look!” 

Ryan tsked, taking the paper bag from Matt and rolling it shut before setting it on the counter. He quickly grabbed a paper towel and pressed it into Matt’s hand before maneuvering him away from the sink by the waist. 

“You’ve lost dishes privileges.” Ryan said, but he sounded like he was trying not to laugh. “You’re literally a danger to yourself and others.” 

“But what am I _supposed_ to do now that I’m… fucking invalid.” Matt uncovered his wound, dabbing at it with the paper towel to sop up the blood until he could see it clearly. It was a pretty nasty gash (phrasing), and if he was honest it hurt pretty fucking bad. 

“Just clean it up and go to sleep, it’s late. I’ll finish this box.” Ryan was already rolling his sleeves up, lifting the next stack of dishes out of the cardboard box to rinse off. He couldn’t be argued with at that point, but Matt knew it was polite to try. 

“I don’t want to be a jackass, you carried like half this shit up by yourself, I don’t want to make you do all the putting away by yourself.” Matt pursed his lips in disapproval, squeezing the paper towel against his hand as tight as he could. 

“I really don’t mind, man. I haven’t ripped my fucking hand open yet today, so I’m still doing better than you.” 

“Fuck off.” Matt replied, venomless. “If I go band-aid my gash myself, will you at least kiss it better?” Ryan smiled at that, the sweet, private one that Matt felt like only he got to see these days. The one that he got every time he offered to slob on Ryan’s cock or kiss him softly in the moonlight. Jokingly. Of course. 

“‘Course I will. The Neosporin is in my toiletries bag, the band-aids are somewhere in there too.” Ryan flicked his eyes up to Matt as he dried a plate, then jerked his head toward the bathroom. “Go on then. Before you get an infection.” 

“I’m going, I’m going!” Matt threw his hands up in surrender, leaving the injured one up above his head as he walked to the bathroom. Wasn't elevation supposed to help?

He was pleased to find that Ryan only had Star Wars band aids, officially licensed and everything. It was uncomfortable cleaning his wound out, but the last thing he wanted was ceramic shards in his bloodstream. When it was cleaned and infection-protected, he carefully laid down one Kylo Ren and one BB-8 band aid just to cover the slash. He’d resisted the urge to snoop too much through Ryan’s toiletries, not that there would be anything too out of the ordinary anyways. Maybe lube, at the most exciting. Toothpaste at the least. It was funny to see how many hair ties and clips he had, despite his fairly short haircut. Maybe he’s a very conscientious hookup, Matt thought, and then immediately wished he hadn’t. That was a reality he wasn’t exactly prepared for now that he and Ryan were sharing a _considerably_ smaller space than before: getting sexiled. Ryan was certainly attractive enough that he wouldn’t have trouble finding girls to give hair ties to. Matt tried to think back to when they were living with Mark, and how often he’d even noticed Ryan bring someone home. It must’ve happened, anyone with eyes would go home with Ryan, but Matt honestly couldn’t say he’d ever even heard anything.

He shook himself, coming back down to Earth and sweeping his trash into his uninjured hand before tossing it in the bin. Whatever. Wasn’t his business anyways. 

“I’m ready for my kiss!” He announced loudly, holding his hand in front of him like a lantern in the dark. Ryan was still hunched over the sink, but he looked up with sparkling eyes and smiled broadly at Matt as he approached the kitchen. Once Matt’s wrist was within reach, Ryan took Matt’s hand gently in both of his and shut his eyes, pressing his lips to the center of Matt’s palm, not even over the two strips of plastic that could’ve saved him from raw-mouthing Matt’s hands. It was an exceptionally soft kiss, but even the gentle press of Ryan’s lips made a shiver run all the way up Matt’s arm and down his spine. Ryan opened his eyes slowly, pressing one more kiss over the band-aids as an almost afterthought.

“Feel better?” Ryan asked, looking up at Matt through his lashes, cocking his head to the side as they both waited for Matt’s vocal chords to get back under his control. 

“Mm-hmm. Thanks to you, my brother.” Matt swallowed awkwardly, mouth simultaneously dry and too full of spit. “You were right, I think I’m gonna head… head to bed.” That was a good idea. He should get to his own bedroom before he made an even bigger idiot of himself. 

“Alright man. I’m not far behind, but I’ll be quiet.” Ryan was already back at the dishes like nothing happened, like Matt couldn’t still feel the scratch of his beard on the most sensitive part of his hand. Matt nodded, muttering a quick ‘night, man’ before ducking into his room and shutting the door tightly behind him. 

______________________________________________________________________________________________________________

_Media offline._

_メディアオフライン_

_Média hors ligne._

_Offline-Medien_

_离线媒体_

_Medios sin conexción._

In short, he was fucked. He had been two seconds away from rendering the finished video, and the PC just… bluescreened. Now he was sitting there, staring at another colored screen and he was somehow even more angry. He didn’t want to yell, because that would be rude to do in an office setting, but at the same time he _really fucking wanted to yell_. He wanted to put his foot through the monitor and take a half day. But he hadn’t had the job that long, only a little over a month, and he couldn’t afford to make a big scene over something as commonplace as getting buttfucked by Premiere. 

“You’re awfully quie— oh.” Matt turned, picking his face up out of his hands to look at Ryan, who had appeared behind him with two paper drink cups in his hands. “What happened?” 

“I literally have no idea. It just… died on me. Right when I was about to be _done,_ ” Matt whined, tipping his head back over the swivel chair like he was yelling directly at God. “I was literally done. Like I just had to render it. Fuck me, I hate this stupid fucking software.” 

“Would you rather use iMovie?” Ryan asked, setting one of the cups down in front of Matt, taking a swig out of his own and pulling over a chair. “Maybe someone renamed the files? They are in the weird shared network folder.” 

Ryan was already typing before Matt could answer, brows drawn tightly together like this was his deadline to hit. Matt just let him work, his brain too fried to do much else anyways. He tried to pay attention to what Ryan was doing on the computer so that maybe next time he could fix the problem himself, but the way Ryan unconsciously dragged his teeth along his bottom lip drew Matt’s eye much more easily. When he pulled the keyboard closer to him, Matt couldn’t help but watch as Ryan’s hands flew over the keys. He really did have nice hands. Deft and strong. Sometimes they would press their hands together, palm to palm, and of course Matt’s fingers were longer, but Ryan’s were so much more… well-formed. They didn’t look like twigs you could snap, more like. 

“Okay, that should do it…” Ryan mumbled, double clicking to open the Premiere window back up, which thought for a few seconds before flashing back to life. Matt let out a sigh of relief, physically sinking down into his chair. “Yeah, I think someone changed the recording date on the file names. For some reason Premiere can’t handle something being a nine instead of an eight.”

“God I could kiss you right on your juicy lips, Ryan Magee.” Matt shook himself, twitching-nervous hands quickly hitting save before he navigated to the media encoder faster than he ever had in his life. “I owe you. Seriously. Like, you want your dick sucked, somebody killed, you name it, I’m down.” Ryan was giggling his stupid Ryan giggle, the one that made the hairs on the back of Matt’s neck stand up. 

“Have dinner with me tonight?” Ryan said, leaning back in his chair and fixing his goofy expression on Matt, who couldn’t help but snort. 

“Yeah, Ryan, I’ll have dinner with you in the apartment that we share. Just like every night.” Ryan laughed, again, then picked up his drink and took a sip, reminding Matt that he’d gotten one too. “What is this, by the way?” 

“Coffee, duh.” Ryan replied, lifting his foot and pushing off of Matt’s chair to propel himself towards his own desk. “You looked sleepy.” 

______________________________________________________________________________________________________________

This was definitely the latest they’d ever recorded. They had to batch-record a ton of stuff before the holidays, plus the podcast and all that entailed. Matt hadn’t eaten at all that day, which wasn’t unusual, but it was annoying. He didn’t want to be a little bitch about it, but low blood sugar was making his already overheated brain sluggish and remarkably unfunny. 

Ryan, on the other hand, was still radiant as ever. The charming, puppy-like glee he gave off should be infectious, Matt usually couldn’t stop his face from smiling whenever he looked at Ryan anyways. They’d long-since abandoned any pretenses of professionalism, it was too dark outside to care, the weird in-between you feel sometimes in high schools or office buildings after nightfall. Matt was tucked into the corner of the couch, knees curled up to his chest while his head leaned heavily into Ryan’s shoulder. He was warm, Matt thought to himself. Smelled nice. Matt had asked earlier if he was wearing cologne, but Ryan just snorted at him. 

“The red coin is literally right there dude. Like I can see it. Why are you still killing goombas.” 

“Let daddy do his work, Matthew. You wouldn’t understand.” Ryan double-jumped two more in a row, then finally went over to end the fucking level.

“I would literally rather do a nuzlocke run of Pokémon Red than watch you play another level like this-“ Matt was interrupted by his own stomach, which made a noise he was desperately hoping didn’t get picked up on the microphone. Ryan was already laughing before the gurgle even stopped, doubled over like it was the funniest thing in the universe. Matt would be annoyed, but he couldn’t ever be annoyed at someone who looked like _that_ when they laughed. Even if it was at him. 

“Holy fuck, Justin I need you to make a separate MP3 of that so I can make it my ringtone,” Ryan said, breathless, lips only an inch from the pop filter. 

“Fuck you.” Was all Matt could say, but he was still smiling despite himself. “Just finish this stupid episode so I can go home and wait forty-five minutes to get Wingstop delivered.” 

“Should only be…” Ryan leaned over and grabbed his phone, unlocking it and peering down for a moment. “Twenty-one now.” Matt furrowed his brow, turning quickly to look at Ryan, who’d already turned his attention back to the TV. 

“Did you really already order food, you asshole?” He was grateful, he didn’t know why he was being mean. Shock, mostly. But Ryan, ever patient, just smiled and shrugged his shoulders. 

“Yeah. You said you were hungry at like… nine, so I figured you hadn’t eaten since like, nine last night,” he said simply. Matt just stared at him, mouth slightly agape. It was all true, even the inferred bits. Feeling both flattered and stupid, Matt turned and pressed his forehead against Ryan’s shoulder, humming to himself. 

“Well thanks, pal.” He said finally. “You better’ve got those garlic-“ 

“Garlic parmesan wings? Yeah, duh.” Ryan glanced sideways at him, and winked. Matt couldn’t control the flush that bloomed over his face, and thanked god that Ryan had already looked back at the screen. “Alright on that incredibly homosexual note, we’re gonna end this episode here. Justin, just… I don’t know, throw up the intro to the Andy Griffith show. Bye everybody!” Matt giggled to himself as Ryan ceremoniously grabbed the remote and made an enormous show of turning off the TV. 

“How long till the food’s here again?” Matt asked, stretching his back over the arm of the couch.

Ryan hummed, then a moment later said, “Twenty minutes.”

“Cool, so I get twenty minutes to suck the absolute shit out of your dick.” Ryan let out a bubble of shocked laughter, turning to Matt with half-lidded eyes and a chest-warmingly fond smile. 

“Well, or ten for each of us. I don’t want to leave you high and dry, buddy. Or, low and damp, I guess.” Ryan replied, grabbing a fistful of Matt’s shirt and aggressively pulling him back to his spot, encircling an arm around his back. 

“But I’ve gotta make it up to you for the wings, dude!” Matt protested, letting his stupid gangly legs spill over onto Ryan’s lap. It was funny to him, sometimes, how far they took the joke. And how so much of it wasn’t really even a joke. Ryan turned to press his cheek against Matt’s forehead, the scratch of his beard causing the nerves along Matt’s spine to light up.

“Would’ve got the wings either way.” Ryan’s voice was low, Matt could feel the rumble of it through his ribs. “Don’t gotta suck my willie for it.” 

The air felt overwhelmingly still, like the universe was poised, waiting for something to happen. Ryan’s hand twitched, pinkie skidding across the bare part of Matt’s upper arm, just under his tee-shirt sleeve. Goosebumps raced along his skin, spreading down over Matt’s arm and across his shoulder blades. Being so close was nice, Matt realized then, but he also realized the _thirst_ he felt because of it. Like a junkie realizing that the usual dose of smack isn’t doing it anymore. Feeling Ryan’s skin on his, he could’ve sworn he understood the whole purple dragon thing for the first time in his life. 

“Ngh, god are you sure? I can’t think of anything I want to do more than suck you off-“ Ryan was already laughing, high and giggly and sweet tempered. He tightened his grip on Matt’s waist and fell backwards, pulling Matt into his lap as he collapsed back onto the couch. 

“Alright, fine, _maybe_ if you promise to eat before fucking nine PM tomorrow I’ll let you slob on my knob.” Ryan said, sliding his hand up and down the length of Matt’s back, slow and rhythmic. “It’s not healthy, y’know.” 

“Neither are cigarettes.” Matt replied, voice muffled where his face was pressed fervently to Ryan’s chest. That got him a pinch in the side, but Ryan stopped pushing the issue, and just let Matt lie on top of him like a dead fish. It was the most comfortably Matt could remember being in recent memory, cradled by the perfect form of Ryan’s body. What could be better? 


	2. Chapter Two

The noise of the club seemed to press in on him from all sides; the thud of the music vibrating his teeth, the clattering of the bartender as she shook and poured and strained, the dozens of people around him spilling their conversation into his periphery as easily as splashes of their drinks fell onto the sticky wood floor. He was serviceably drunk, a long-warm beer someone else had bought him held in his hands like an afterthought. He was alone at the bar, Jackson and Tucker had gone outside to smoke and Ryan had gotten caught in conversation with a very, very pretty girl.

She was certainly dressed for the event, her shirt and her shorts cropped as high as anatomy would allow, and Matt envied her for how cool she probably was compared to him in his long sleeves and jeans. They’d been talking for almost ten minutes now. Ryan had been picking his way around the edge of the dance floor to get back to the bar when she had leaned out from her table and caught him, gently, by the elbow. Her hand looked so neat and small against his arm, and Matt felt sure that Ryan had to have noticed it too. Had to have noticed her shiny black-and-blue hair and how it fell just so around her jaw, noticed her full chest practically spilling out of her shirt, noticed the way she’d put her hand on his arm four times so far. She laughed with her eyes closed and asked questions with her whole face. Matt couldn’t hear a single word from this distance, but he knew what she was doing. And who wouldn’t do the same? If Matt was a red-blooded female twentysomething, he’d pull out all the stops to get Ryan Magee’s fucking phone number.

Sullenly, he turned away from the scene. It hurt to look, and he didn’t know why, but he knew he’d rather just get more drunk than have to think about it. It was weird, because the girl wasn’t even really his type. She was beautiful, that was objective, but she wasn’t the solid, curvaceous type he usually went for. If anything she was willowy. Her arms were probably about as big around as his, albeit with better proportions.

“When you get a sec, vodka redbull please. And a trash can for this.” Matt held up his cup and smiled at the bartender as soberly as he could. When she set down the dangerously full cup a few moments later, Matt’s nose felt the alcohol before anything else. He looked up to thank her, but she was already on the other end serving some rowdy-looking UCLA kids.

Matt looked back at the cup, semi-opaque white plastic sweating almost as much as him. Ryan was still at the table, and the girl had her phone pulled out, unlocking it with deft fingers before handing it to Ryan, who was smiling at her. It was a familiar expression, but Matt couldn’t place it exactly. He just knew that in the moment, he felt a stab of something in his chest so sudden it made him gasp. Ryan was writing his number in her phone, and when he handed it back their hands surely brushed.

Matt picked up his cup and swallowed half of it before he even felt the burn, nearly spewing everything back out his nose when he started to cough. The inside of his head buzzed pleasantly, and enough of his thoughts were saturated in booze that thinking didn’t hurt quite so bad. He took another sip, focusing this time on the way the drink felt in his mouth. Fizz from the Redbull, battery-acid tang with the slippery, bitter aftertaste of vodka. Ryan was going to go home with that girl, if not tonight then sometime. And why shouldn’t he? If anything Matt should be happy for him. She was pretty, Ryan was pretty, it was a match made in heaven.

Matt leaned his head heavily into his propped-up hand, squeezing his eyes shut until all he could feel was the spinning that his own brain was inventing. He finished his drink without opening his eyes.

He didn’t know how long he sat there before Jackson and Tucker sidled back up beside him, smelling like piss and cigarette smoke.

“Where’s Ryan?” Jackson asked, flagging down the bartender while Tucker took a look around.

“Talking to a girl.”

“Don’t sound too excited there, Matt.” Tucker snorted. “How long has he been talking?”

“I don’t know. But she’s—“ He hiccuped, pressing his knuckles to his mouth as he swallowed a little bit of vomit. “—Really into him. Papa bear’s gonna get his dick wet.”

“Huh. Maybe we should just leave him here. He can get his own Uber.” Matt had turned back around to look over at Ryan and his nameless club sweetheart, the hot, sticky, entirely uncomfortable feeling dropping back into his chest as soon as he saw Ryan’s face scrunch with laughter.

“Are we leaving?” Matt asked, hopeful, already done with the noise and the smell of the club. He would prefer to be back in his own bed if he was going to have the spins.

“Yeah, I guess. Matt, wanna go ask if Ryan’s done?”

“Why do I have to?”

“Because I want to see if you can still walk that far by yourself.” Matt clumsily flicked his middle finger up at Jackson, pushing himself off the barstool and scowling.

“Someone get me a water bottle, please.” He snapped, not waiting for an answer as he trudged through the throng of people to reach Ryan. He expected to hear at least some of their conversation as he got closer, but the music had become cataclysmically loud. Ryan spotted him when he was still ten feet away, brows furrowing in concern as he no doubt saw the sour look on Matt’s face. Shit. He’d been aiming for ‘neutral but tired’.The girl, startled, turned her head to look where Ryan was looking, and Matt felt his chest deflate. She was even prettier up close, sparkly blue eyes and sharp, catlike features. And of course, her face seemed almost bare of makeup, except for two blush-stenciled hearts on either of her cheeks.

“Jackson and Tucker are getting an Uber, they want to know if you’re coming.” Matt crossed his arms, tucking his hands against his sides like it might stop them from shaking.

The girl looked at Ryan, eyebrows raised, but he was still looking at Matt.

“Now?” Ryan asked.

“I think so.”

“Uh, yeah. I’m coming.” Matt was honestly shocked, too drunk to keep it from showing on his face. He’d been expecting to do his own walk of shame back to the group. “Oh and Matt, this is Everly. She’s a game dev from South Carolina.”

“Go gamecocks.” Said Everly, looking Matt up and down as she said it, stretching out a dainty hand to prod at the logo blazoned across Ryan’s chest. “You two work together, right?”

“Yeah, we do,” said Matt, feeling weirdly defensive. “It’s nice meeting you. Ry, are you ready?”

Once they were in the Uber, Matt really had to fight with his motion sickness. Every curve in the road made him a little more nauseous, and the abstract interpretation of road laws by their driver didn’t help. Ryan was sandwiched in the back beside him, warm and solid where he pressed against Matt’s side. He must’ve seen Matt’s pale face in the quickly disappearing light of a street lamp, because his hand gingerly found the back of Matt’s head and guided it to his shoulder, carding his fingers through the hair at the base of Matt’s neck. While it didn’t make the sick disappear, it made it less noticeable. Now instead of his roiling stomach, Matt could focus on the soft, incense-smelling cushion of Ryan’s sweatshirt. If he’d had any less caffeine, he probably would’ve nodded off into Ryan’s neck like he already had so many times before.

Getting into their apartment was a thousand times more awkward than it should have been. Matt trailed behind, eyes fixed on the bounce of Ryan’s loose ponytail as he jogged up the steps, already pulling the keys from his pocket. Everly. Now that they were home Matt felt a little bad about stealing Ryan away from the potential for… whatever. All he had to offer was their empty, dark apartment, the same as every other night they both came home drunk and smelling like sweat.

Matt watched silently as Ryan filled up a pot with enough water for two mugs and set it to boil, all the while whistling softly to himself as he worked. Matt was pretending to drink a glass of water, leaning his skinny, sore ass against the counter while Ryan worked. When the water came to a gentle boil, Ryan dropped a Sleepytime tea bag into each mug, covering them with the water and a squeeze of honey. He dropped an ice cube in Matt’s before setting it next to him on the counter.

“Careful, it’s hot. I’m gonna go take a shower.”

“Mm, can I come?” Matt smiled, weakly, at his own joke, drawing his eyes down Ryan’s back as he walked away. He wished he could be an Everly for Ryan. He deserved something better than this, better than an empty bed and a jealous best friend and fucking blue balls. He was so good. Matt remembered the feeling of fingertips gentle against his neck, coaxing the nausea out of him. Remembered all the times Ryan had practically carried him up the stairs, even though they were both falling-down drunk. He looked at the tea sitting innocently in its cup, physical evidence of the kindness so inherent to Ryan it had become an afterthought. Guilt burned hot in Matt’s stomach, vodka’s evil cousin. Who the fuck was he to be… jealous? That really was it, he realized with a hard swallow. He was jealous of the girl who was prettier and funnier and more interesting than he could ever be for Ryan. The thought made his nose pinch, and he blinked hard a few times, glad for the dim lighting in the kitchen and the distance between them. Didn‘t need to freak Ryan out any more for that evening.

Ryan pulled his sweatshirt over his head, tossing it onto the couch before glancing at Matt over his shoulder. He was smiling, tired, and looked Matt up and down before replying.

“Sure, you smell like you need one anyways.”

“Nice. Meet you there.”

__________________ ______________________________________________________________________________________________________________

“Matt, please?” Ryan’s voice was low, sloppy and hot against his ear. He had his hand stuffed into the back pocket of Matt’s jeans, the other was holding a tiny, delicate ceramic cup. Matt was more worried about him dropping it than he was about the goosebumps that raised on his arms when Ryan spoke.

“I’m not doing another shot with you. You shouldn’t even do another shot.” Matt said, grabbing for the cup only for Ryan to snatch his hand back, spilling most of the contents onto the floor. He didn’t seem to notice.

“Don’t be a pussy.” Ryan slurred, pulling his face out of Matt’s neck to pout at him.

“I don’t wanna die of alcohol poisoning.”

“Gay.” Ryan turned, knocking back what was left of the liquid in the cup, making a face as soon as he did. His eyes were twinkly, shiny with drunkenness and sleep deprivation. They were on the tiny balcony of their AirBnB, Matt had followed Ryan out to watch him smoke a cigarette, stealing a few drags whenever they were offered to him. Jackson and Harrison were already asleep, leaving the two of them to their antics, which to Ryan apparently meant trying to get Matt as drunk as he was. It wasn’t that Matt wasn’t drunk. The world was practically swimming before his eyes. But Ryan was rose-cheeked and giggly, the kind of drunk that usually led to him throwing shit like a toddler and laughing at people who tried to stop him.

Now, though, he was staring out into the street below them, the cup still dangling precariously from his fingertips. Matt realized, sluggishly, that maybe he should be more concerned about the hand in his back pocket, but he couldn’t be. It was Ryan, after all.

“I think sake is my least favorite Japanese alcohol.” Ryan said, examining the pattern on the outside of the cup. It was a delicate blue color, stamped with a floral design Matt couldn’t get his eyes to focus on.

“You don’t really like wine, so that doesn’t surprise me.” Matt replied, wrapping his arm around Ryan’s shoulders and deftly snatching the cup out of Ryan’s hands before he could drop it. He barely seemed to notice, staring blankly at the place where the cup had been. He only noticed something was off when Matt pulled away and his hand was closed around air instead of Matt’s ass. Groaning, he fell back into the only chair on the balcony, tucking an arm behind his head, undoubtedly watching through the sliding-glass door as Matt took their empty cups to the sink.

Matt found himself lingering in the living room, stooping to pick up even more detritus from that evening; glasses and cans, empty bottles, snack-food wrappers and dirty plates. There was a knot in his stomach, and it got tighter every time he glanced back at the balcony. He’d noticed a pattern, recently, how twisty and knotted his insides felt when it was just the two of them, alone. Which was stupid. It was just Ryan. It wasn’t like there was anything worth being nervous about.

Still, though, he was hiding inside the house. He poured stale beer down the kitchen sink and crushed the cans one by one. It was easier than dealing with the oil-slick rainbow of nerves that settled in his stomach whenever he looked at Ryan’s eyelashes for a second too long. Besides, Ryan probably appreciated the silence. He could take in the view from the balcony without Matt’s staticky nervous energy. The part of the city they were staying in was beautiful at night, you could see the lights from downtown glittering over the tops of the other houses, stark and beautiful against the inky sky.

Matt was sorting the trash and recyclables when he heard the sliding door open, then shut and lock with a click. He kept his attention on the pile of garbage in front of him. Ryan must be going to bed, there was nothing else exciting to keep his drunkenly-shortened attention span. What Matt wasn’t expecting was for all five-foot-something of him to walk into the kitchen and smear himself against Matt’s back, arms snaking around Matt’s waist like this was a normal happenstance for them.

“Can I help you?” Matt tried to turn his head, only to realize Ryan had his face pressed into the back of Matt’s neck.

“Missed you.” He said, plainly. The simplicity of it, the bare honesty, made Matt’s throat tighten. And judging by the way Ryan’s arms squeezed around his middle, it seemed a more reasonable explanation than anything. “Wanna go to bed.”

“Well you don’t need me for that.”

“Want you, though.”

Matt could’ve choked. He set one hand over Ryan’s, squeezing his eyes tightly shut to give his brain time to process. Something about hearing Ryan say it made him ache. He wanted so badly to be casual, to feel nothing but mildly flattered about the whole thing. Instead he had a disgusting, sap-sticky goo in the place where his organs had been a few moments before. Ryan’s breathing was slow and soft, chest pressing rhythmically into Matt’s back with each inhalation. He needed to say something.

“Kay. Go brush your teeth and stuff, I’ll be there in a second.” This was the most intelligible thing he could say, what with Ryan’s mouth so close to his neck. Unfortunately, it only got him a dissatisfied groan in response.

“Why can’t you just come now?” This had to be punishment for something. He didn’t even believe in god anymore, but the twist in his stomach felt like divine cruelty. Why was he acting like this? It was just Ryan. They’d slept in the same bed plenty of times. Even as he logically fought against it, the tension in his guts refused to loosen.

“I was sorting this garbage, but if you’re so insistent…” Matt turned, expecting to break out of Ryan’s grasp only to be held fast by his hips. Ryan looked up at him, brown eyes swallowed by the blackness of his pupils, a smile slowly dragging its way across his face. Matt gulped.

“I am.” Ryan said, sounding more sober than he had in hours. He dropped his gaze to the space between their bodies, then let his hands fall from Matt’s hips, reluctant, like it was someone else’s idea and he was just playing along. Immediately, Matt missed them. He hadn’t noticed the warmth until it was gone.

Twenty minutes later, after a brief, whispered spat about sharing toothpaste, Matt and Ryan were curled up close as two people could reasonably be. Ryan started it, tutting annoyedly when Matt had the nerve to lie down a few inches away, hooking an arm around his waist and pulling their bodies flush together. The room was comfortingly silent, so quiet Matt could hear the rattle of Ryan’s breath even as he felt it against his neck. Ryan’s arm was heavy on his waist, but not in a bad way. The pressure gave him something to focus on, an anchor to reality as his brain scrambled to explain away the rapid beating of his heart. He hoped Ryan couldn’t feel it, wouldn’t ask why Matt’s pulse seemed to think he was doing the hundred meter dash.

“Hey Matt?” Fuck.

“Hm?”

“I’m really glad you’re my best friend.” That… wasn’t what he was expecting. He felt his face flush with heat, an involuntary smile on his lips. Ryan’s voice was low, heavy like he was on the edge of sleep and was fighting it just to say some sappy shit. This must be what swooning is, Matt thought as his stomach erupted in butterflies. Again, he’d heard this all before. Nothing about the situation was too terribly new, aside from the country they were in. Matt reached down, covering the hand resting on his belly with his own, threading their fingers together. Ryan squeezed them, sending another thrill up Matt’s spine.

“Me too, bud.” Matt murmured. He had the urge to drag Ryan’s hand up to his lips, press them to each of his knuckles in turn, just to show how bad he meant it. “Me too.”

______________________________________________________________________________________________________________

He’s been trying to find something to watch for 45 minutes. Blankets pulled up around his shoulders, cup-noodles long cold in their bowl on his desk, and yet with all of these comforts he still cannot make his brain move. It’s like static in his head, wool behind his eyes instead of over them. The problem is that he doesn’t care, really. He doesn’t care what he watches while he feeds his horrible body and tries to escape his horrible brain for a few minutes. But this only makes each option he sees turn grey and pointless and he comes across it. Either he’s seen it and bored of it, or he hasn’t and he’s simply too tired to bother learning about new, unfamiliar people and their problems.

Pinching his lips together, he pushes the mouse away from himself like a petulant toddler. Fine. He won’t watch anything. He picks up his fork and stares, almost aggravated, at the bowl of cold noodles. He’s never been less hungry in his life.

Contrary to the bitter, sulking mood Matt created for himself, his phone beeped cheerily from his bed with the special, stupid ringtone he had set for Ryan.

You wanna come watch that new Adam Sandler movie? I’m making nachos.

The thought of leaving his room feels… impossible. He suddenly feels the tired in each of his limbs, even though he’d done nothing but sit in the same chair all day and stare at one screen or the other.

Sorry, I can’t tonight.

He sends the message and sets his phone face-down on the desk, expecting that to be the end of it. Instead, it starts buzzing again, this time with a phone call instead. He’s so shocked he almost forwards it straight to voicemail, but he can’t help but answer when he sees it’s Ryan.

“Hello?”

“This is like, the fourth time this week you’ve said no to hanging out. So, either you’re fucking someone or somethings wrong.” Ryan certainly wasn’t pulling any punches. “So what’s wrong?”

Matt can’t help but smile a little despite himself. “I could be fucking someone, you asshole,” he says, intending to lie through his teeth about how fine he’s doing, just working on some important personal project, yada yada. But the fact that Ryan called just to check in on him is making it hard. To be sure, he does feel like shit about it, a little. He used to be better at hiding it, or so he thought. If his awful, stupid mood is that obvious to other people, then he must have been miserable to be around the past few days. Or weeks. He can hardly tell how long he’s been… consumed. Once the feeling is there, it’s like it always has been.

“I— it’s nothing. I mean, nothing happened. I’m fine.” Even as he said it he felt like a sinner, the lie dry and sour in his mouth. He just didn’t want Ryan to be worried about him, he had enough to worry about already without having to deal with Matt’s depressed ass.

“You know I can tell when you’re lying, right?” Dammit. “Matt, come on. It’s me. You can tell me what’s up.”

He probably should. His therapist was always saying that he needed to let people help him, that accepting assistance didn’t make him a burden. It sounded like bullshit, but he might as well try.

“It’s just… I dunno. I just feel like shit lately. Like my brain is stuck in-between emotions or something.” He scrubbed a hand over his face, trying to envision Ryan’s face in his mind. He was such a good listener, he always knew when to nod or hum or just reach out and squeeze Matt’s knee. “I’m not sad, exactly, just… numb. Everything is just so far away. It’s so impossible to care about anything.” The phone was silent from the other end, and Matt was formulating some offhand, humorous remark to make and change the subject when Ryan spoke.

“Want me to come over?” Matt’s breath caught in his throat. “We don’t have to do anything. I can just… sit with you. Sometimes it feels better just to have someone else to ride out the storm with.”

Truthfully, he did. He hadn’t considered it at all before, the idea of bringing in someone else to witness the scope of his mental illness felt morally equivalent to holding someone hostage in a basement for ten months. It was ugly and boring and, often, gross. He’d have to get up and go brush his teeth for the first time in days if Ryan came over. But there was a part of him that ached for Ryan’s presence like nothing else in the world. He didn’t think he’d ever wanted water as badly as he wanted to bury his face in the side of Ryan’s neck.

“I mean— if you don’t think it’ll be too much of like, a bother.” Matt said shyly, digging his nails into the palm of his hand, straining like he had to force the words out. “I’d… I’d like to see you.”

Ryan, angel, promised he wouldn’t be more than thirty minutes. Which wasn’t necessarily a good thing, because Matt had a shameful amount of cups and plates and trash to clear off every flat surface beforehand. He wasn’t even going to bother with the laundry on the floor, that was a losing battle. Thankfully the kitchen was empty as he made his three shameful trips back and forth, loading what he could into the dishwasher and leaving the rest in the sink once he’d started it. Jackson and Harrison would be glad the cup stock had been replenished, at least. He did brush his teeth, refusing to stop until minty foam was dripping down his chin and his mouth didn’t taste like absolute ass anymore.

Ryan got there just as Matt was heading back to his room, and he was halfway to the door when Ryan opened it without a second knock.

“Oh, hey. I brought ingredients for nachos, but I don’t have to eat now if you’re not.” Ryan said, adjusting the stuffed tote bag on his shoulder. “I’ll stick this stuff in the fridge. Wanna hang in your room?”

Matt did. He threw his comforter over the mattress in some semblance of making the bed, gathering all the blankets stashed around his room into one pile. Ryan wasn’t far behind, and if he was grossed out by the explosion of laundry and other random detritus coating the floor, he didn’t show it. He just stepped over it and grabbed Matt around the middle, effortlessly tossing him onto the bed. It knocked the wind out of Matt, but in a good way. Like he could feel something other than boredom. In retaliation, he shoved Ryan’s shoulder with his foot, not even hard enough to interrupt his typing on Matt’s computer. He tilted the monitor towards the bed, pulling up a YouTube playlist and setting it to full screen before Matt could even see what it was.

“What are we watching?” Matt asked, squinting at the first few seconds of the mystery program before he was greeted by the Grumps logo— the old one. “Wait, did you put on the fucking Sonic ‘06 playthrough to get me out of a fucking depressive episode?”

Ryan shrugged, a little smile low on his face as he crawled up the mattress to where Matt was lying, promptly flopping down on top of him. Again, the wind was knocked out of Matt, but he felt his face heat up anyways. It was kind of like deep-pressure therapy, it felt nice to have the warm, reassuring weight on top of him. Ryan tucked his face into the side of Matt’s neck, humming deep in his chest in a way that seemed to vibrate through Matt’s whole body. After a few seconds he pulled back, rolling onto his back beside Matt.

“Didn’t want to crush you completely.” He said, lifting his arm in automatic invitation. Matt was there in an instant, resting his head on Ryan’s collar, going so far as to throw his leg over Ryan’s thighs. He was always a touchy-feely person, he’d learned what a “love language” was recently and definitely knew his was physical touch. But with Ryan, it was more than just… fulfilling some need he was deficient in as a child or whatever. It was like opposing poles of a magnet. He could hardly stand to be in the same room as Ryan and not touch him, somehow. It wasn’t helping that recently the desire to touch and the shame for his desire went practically hand in hand. With every brush of their skin came a thrill and it’s subsequent pang of guilt.

But now, he was being invited. Ryan’s hand was firm on his upper back, rubbing unconscious circles into his spine. Matt let his hand rest over Ryan’s heart, feeling for the rhythmic beat against his palm. He suddenly felt very annoyed with Ryan’s shirt, swallowing hard with the realization of just how much he would like to press his hand against bare skin instead of the 60/40 cotton-poly blend. Fuck.

That really wouldn’t fly. He’d never ask, obviously, what kind of insane person asks their best friend for a shirtless cuddle session? Certainly not a straight one. Or one who has that friend for much longer. And god, he couldn’t lose Ryan. He couldn’t. His hand curled into the fabric, unable to prevent his eyes from welling up as he considered his prospects. This… craving he had, this entirely inappropriate fondness, could very well cost him everything. It could cost him this bright, kind, beautiful man if he wasn’t careful. There was no one on this earth who could replace Ryan if Matt was stupid enough to cross that line.

But where was the line, even? They spent so much time in the grey space, the homoerotic jokes had become so normal for them it had brought them here, to Ryan in Matt’s bed, holding him tight to his chest to try and stave off the demons in Matt’s head. God, he was so fucked.

“Let me know if you get hungry. Actually… when was the last time you ate?” Matt could feel Ryan’s head tip down to look at him. He hoped to God he couldn’t see the water on Matt’s eyelashes.

“Uhh… What— what day is it?”

“Tuesday.”

“Then uh. It’s been a little while.” Ryan didn’t press after that, just sighed and turned to bury his nose in Matt’s hair. His breath was warm on Matt’s scalp, his grip on Matt’s ribs tightening but a fraction.

“Would you eat if I made food?” Matt nodded. He would cut his pinkie off if Ryan asked him to using that voice. “Kay. I’ll go make those nachos, it shouldn’t take long.” He slid himself delicately out from under Matt, giving Matt’s knee a final squeeze as he stood up and disappeared into the hallway.

Matt rolled onto his side, facing away from the door. His eyes were still sparkling with tears, and his chest felt hot and tense with the effort of holding them in. It was so simple and yet it hurt so badly. Ryan was so good to him. And he didn’t deserve a lick of it.


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is where things get... explicit. So keep that in mind, if it's not your cup of tea.

Matt was glad he didn’t have hair anybody needed to hold. He was sweaty, hunched over the toilet and retching bile, everything else in his stomach long since upheaved. The smell in Max’s tiny bathroom wasn’t great to begin with, it’d been through the wringer that evening, but the smell of vomit had to be leaking into the hallway by now. Matt spit once, twice, then slumped onto his side so he didn’t have his face four inches from his own puke. When did he get so drunk? Everything was blurry, and he couldn’t tell if he’d lost his glasses or if he just had real-life beer goggles. His hand was halfway to his face before he remembered getting his head shoved into Ryan’s crotch, remembered the sound of his plastic-rimmed glasses literally snapping against Ryan’s dick. It made him blush thinking about it, unconsciously noting how it made his heart pick up to feel Ryan’s hands so firm and demanding on the back of his head. 

Well. He’d consider that another time. 

“You okay, man?” Ryan’s voice on the other side of the door. Concerned, but trying to sound like he wasn’t. 

“Yeah. To-,” Matt gagged, but managed to turn it into a burp. “Totally fine.” 

“Somehow I don’t believe you,” Ryan replied, and the door cracked open an inch. “Are you naked?” 

“Not yet.” Matt reached up with a clumsy hand and managed to flush the toilet again before Ryan could come all the way in. He’d been subjected to enough of Matt’s puke already. “How are you still so sober?” 

“I’m not, you’re just really fucking wasted.” Ryan replied, taking stock of Matt’s piteous situation and looking tired. “Here. Rinse your mouth out with this. And take that shirt off, it’s covered in puke.” He handed Matt a cold water bottle, the cap already cracked for him. 

“Trying to get me undressed, Ryan?” Matt managed to pour some water into his mouth, swishing and gargling before spitting into the toilet. “Such a fffuckin’ creep.” Still, he set his water on the floor beside him and peeled his shirt off over his head. It was shockingly cold for Australia, his sweat-cooled skin erupting in goosebumps. He stifled a shiver and tried to get to his feet, failing at both and crashing down on the freezing tile floor.

“God you’re sloppy, huh?” Ryan’s voice was low, soft and tight as he stooped to grab Matt under the arms, hauling him to his feet. “Lean on the counter a sec. I’ll grab your water.” Matt was in no position to do anything else, not that he wanted to anyways. If he was honest, all he wanted to do was go to Max’s guest room and sleep in the little double bed he and Ryan were sharing. Before he could consider it too long, Ryan was up and holding him by the waist. 

“Wanna go to bed? I’m so  _ tired _ .” Matt whined, trying to keep his feet under him as Ryan walked him out of the bathroom. 

“Where else would we be going, dumbass?” Ryan laughed as he said it, adjusting his grip around Matt to try and counter the increasing uselessness of Matt’s legs. All in vain, because seconds later Matt’s left knee went out with no warning, nearly sending him face first into the hardwood. Ryan barely managed to catch him, swinging an arm under Matt’s knees and scooping him up like a puppy. “Jesus. Alright, princess, I’ll carry you.” 

Matt didn’t remember much else until he was laying in bed. He remembered getting to bury his face in Ryan’s neck as he walked. He remembered brushing his teeth from the bed and spitting into a cup. He remembered many sips of water being coaxed into his mouth. But now he was tucked in like a six year old in one of Ryan’s long-sleeved shirts. Ryan himself was sat on the modest armchair in the corner of the room, downturned face illuminated by the glow of his phone. His hair was down, hanging around his shoulders like dark curtains of satin. A few pieces fell in front of his eyes, his big, dark brown eyes. Matt couldn’t help but sigh. He was astoundingly drunk, so he had a really good excuse to stare. 

“Come lay with me.” 

Ryan looked up, frowning like he was shocked Matt was still able to form a sentence. 

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.” 

“I’m asking.” Matt said simply, scooting over on the mattress and haphazardly flipping the blankets back. Ryan considered him for a moment, and Matt pouted at him, going so far as to make the universal sign of grabby-hands until Ryan got up with a sigh. 

“Fine. Just don’t puke on me, alright?” Ryan slid into bed next to him, automatically wrapping an arm around Matt’s shoulders, who had already planted his head on Ryan’s chest. 

“Mm-hm.” Unlike himself, Ryan smelled nice still, somehow. There was the slight sour smell of beer on his skin, some sweat, but it was still just… Ryan. It was familiar. After all, they were hardly strangers to borderline-homosexual physical contact. It hadn’t started out that way, but after Daniel, it was almost the only thing that’d help. It helped to sit in his grief with someone else, to know that Ryan felt just as shitty as he did, but at least they were together. The thought made his nose pinch in that warning way it sometimes did when he thought about Daniel, never when he was expecting it. Maybe because he was drunk and emotional already. Swallowing thickly, Matt pressed his hand over the left side of Ryan’s chest, barely breathing himself as he counted the beats. Just checking. It was steady beneath his palm, regular BPM and everything. Still didn’t help the pit forming quickly in his stomach. Obviously he was happy, how could he not be? He loved traveling with Ryan. He loved working with Max and Chad on stupid childish bullshit. He just wished he didn’t feel so guilty about it. 

“I wish… he was. Here. I know- I know I shouldn’t but it’s so fucking hard not to.” Ryan stiffened, the hand that’d rested softly on the small of Matt’s back slowly slid up around his shoulders, drawing them even closer. 

“I know what you mean. I feel it too. Like I feel bad for not inviting him, or something.” Ryan laughed in a way that Matt knew too well, the kind that started a beat too early and ended with a sniffle. He didn’t even have to see his face. Matt turned until their chests were flush, wiggling up in Ryan’s grasp until he could press their foreheads together. 

“He and Max would’ve gotten along, I think.” There was no need to whisper, but it made them both feel better. To hold and be held and talk quietly like every word was a prayer. 

“I just don’t want to forget… him. And if I’m not thinking about him it’s like I’m forgetting but thinking just _ hurts _ .” Ryan breathed, and Matt could feel his brow furrow. God, he’d really spoiled the mood, hadn’t he? 

“There’s no right answer,” Matt sighed. “But at least you and I get to make out about it.” 

Ryan pinched his side, hard, but not hard enough that it was actually mean. Matt whined at him anyways. “Dick. Can’t be serious for a fucking second.” Ryan muttered, but he tugged Matt closer into his chest. “Go to sleep. You have a hangover to look forward to.” 

______________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The hangover was not worth looking forward to. He woke up from the pain instead of the light, a brilliant pounding against the inside of his eyelids. The bed was cold and devoid of life, especially including him. He groaned and slapped around until he found the nightstand, grabbing the first water bottle-shaped object he found. Luckily it was actually water, and he drank until his stomach gurgled in warning.

It took half an hour for him to get out of bed, which was about how long it took for the nausea to settle down. The same bathroom he’d been intimately acquainted with last night was blissfully empty, and he got halfway into the shower before he realized he was still wearing socks, somehow. He really needed to start counting his drinks. 

After a shower and enough ibuprofen to kill a small mammal, he felt decent enough to prove to everyone that he was still alive. It was still at least a little light out, which was impressive. He heard Chad before anyone else, of course, yelling something inane. Max was in the kitchen, looking on gleefully as Chad and Ryan argued about something probably fucking stupid. 

“Look who’s up, boys!” Max cheered, smirking broadly at Matt as he walked in, talking in a voice that made Matt want to plug his ears. “How’s the head? Should we be a bit more quiet?” 

“No, no. Please, I think it’s helping, actually.” 

“You’re up before sundown, time to start drinking, cunt.” Chad said, cracking a warm-looking beer from the coffee table.

“Can I at least eat something first? I gave you shitheads so much good content last night, leave me alone.” Matt batted Max’s hand away from his face as he opened the fridge, staring until he saw the box of pizza from last night shoved between leftovers and a disgusting amount of alcohol. He unwedged the box and carried it out into the living room where Ryan was sitting on the couch. “Want some pizza, babe?” 

“Cold? Uhh, I’m good.” Ryan replied. It was kind of funny, how he knew he was ‘babe’. It occurred to Matt how much they had blurred the lines between irony and reality recently. Pet names. Little favors. Sharing beds and chairs and cans of beer. It brought up that familiar, panicked tightness in his gut, like he’d forget his place and do something that went… too far. But fuck, it felt so good to bathe in the freedom the jokes gave him. So he escalated the bit, plopping himself down sideways in Ryan’s lap, even though there was plenty of room on the couch. Ryan didn’t even seem fazed. He just leaned back against the cushions, one hand coming up to rest on Matt’s leg. 

“Christ, you two are worse than me and Katt,” Max said, nodding at the incredibly homosexual way Matt had leaned into Ryan’s chest.

“And that’s saying something.” Chad added. 

“I didn’t get my fucking good morning kisses, alright. I need to make up for it.” Matt said around a mouthful of pizza. 

“Your breath smelled like puke, dude.” 

“Could’ve given me an Eskimo kiss!” Matt muttered, fighting down a smile as he stared into Ryan’s big, brown eyes. It looked like he was in the same predicament, and Matt could feel the hand on his knee squeeze for just a second. They both swallowed. 

“That term’s racist, idiot. Good thing Twitter can’t hear you.” Ryan broke the moment by bringing his other hand up to shove Matt’s cheek, lightly, away from him. 

“Alright, well when you two are done having gay sex, we’re going out,” Matt groaned even as Chad said it, the smell and taste of how last night ended returning far too quickly. “No complaining!” 

“Chad, don’t be a cunt. You can just drink all of his drinks instead.” Max said, glancing over at Matt like he was worried he’d puke just thinking about drinking more.

“Yeah, I don’t think you want me there anyways. Dead weight and all that.” Matt dropped his pizza crust back in the box, burping and chivalrously not blowing it into Ryan’s face. “Chad is welcome to drink all he fucking wants on my behalf.” 

“Is everyone else going, then? If so I’ll stay here, watch over the cripple.” Ryan said, tucking an arm behind his head like he was already getting comfortable. Matt couldn’t say he was surprised, Ryan probably didn’t have a very fun morning either. 

“So you can fuck each other, more like.” Max said with a smirk. “S’alright, you’ll have the house to yourselves. Chad’s probably stashed condoms in every fucking room.” 

“Every one except yours, cunt.” 

______________________________________________________________________________________________________________

They did all go out. Max told them before they left that if they wanted to join later they were more than welcome, but he didn’t sound like he thought they’d take him up on it. 

Australian Netflix was weird. They ended up watching a very boring nature show and smoking copious amounts of Chad’s weed to get rid of their headaches. Matt hadn’t strayed far from Ryan’s lap, even though there was no one left to sell the joke to. It just… felt nice. Like laying in bed with him. It felt nice to throw his legs over Ryan’s, feel the weight and warmth of Ryan’s arm around his shoulders. Plus, Ryan wasn’t exactly trying to escape, he had his head resting quite comfortably against Matt’s, temple to temple. 

“Should we try to go exploring? It’s still pretty early, we don’t have to go drink but maybe there’s something cool we can do.” Matt murmured, wordlessly holding his hand out until Ryan passed him the blunt. He was skimming an article on cheap shit to do near Max’s house, trying not to focus entirely on the way Ryan’s hand kept creeping up his leg. 

“I mean, that’d require getting off the couch.” Ryan replied, his voice low and raspy in the best way. It sounded the way he did when he first woke up, all rough around the edges. He sounded like he definitely wasn’t going anywhere fast. Matt huffed a sigh, trying to hide his fond little smirk. 

“Fine, lazy ass. Maybe we should just Postmates some greasy ass Australian cuisine.” Matt went back into his phone, and Ryan hummed neither in agreement nor dissent. His thumb stroked the inside of Matt’s leg, which was making it very hard to concentrate on looking for a restaurant. 

“Have you ever shotgunned?” Ryan asked out of nowhere, breaking the amicable silence that’d formed between them, studying the burning ember of the blunt as he did. 

“You’ve  _ watched _ me try to shotgun-“ 

“No, I mean like with a blunt.” Ryan interrupted, bringing it to his lips and inhaling until the tip flared red. Matt didn’t know where this could be going  _ other _ than Ryan asking him to try it with him. He knew what it was, vaguely. He knew it involved getting your mouth very, very close to someone else’s. 

“I haven’t, no,” He paused before saying anything else. He could feel his heart beating in the palms of his hands, and he tightly gripped his now locked phone. He tried not to sound nervous when he spoke next. “Teach me?” 

Ryan let out a deep breath, but there wasn’t any smoke. He’d been holding it for some other reason. 

“Yeah. It’s easy. Just inhale when I exhale.” Ryan lifted his head, pursing his mouth around the blunt as his hand found the nape of Matt’s neck. His touch was gentle, guiding Matt’s face as close as he could while the blunt was still there. Without warning he stopped his inhale, parting his lips and bringing them barely an inch from Matt’s. His heartbeat was everywhere now, loud and thundering in his ears as he felt warmth against his lips, and he barely remembered to pull breath into his lungs quick enough to catch some smoke. He let it out too slowly on purpose, feeling the sting in his lungs and the prickling in every nerve Ryan was pressed against. It tasted different from a regular hit, he couldn’t say how, maybe it was just placebo. But he really, really wanted to taste it again. 

“I dunno, I think I started too late,” Matt said, flicking his gaze up from Ryan’s mouth to his eyes. That was probably pretty obvious of him, but Ryan didn’t look like he noticed. “Can I try again?” 

Ryan nodded, and Matt watched his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed. He took another pull, his hand still cradling the nape of Matt’s neck, tugging him closer. Matt tilted his head this time, parting his lips and nearly jumping out of his skin when he felt this mouth brush against Ryan’s. His heart was beating so fast he was minorly worried about a heart attack, but Ryan didn’t react to the touch at all, just exhaled slowly enough that Matt was able to catch everything this time. That same taste hit the back of his palate, and he couldn’t help but sneak a look at Ryan’s face. After all, when’s the next time he’d get to see it so close? His eyes were closed, lashes fanned out against his cheeks, brow furrowed in concentration. He was so beautiful Matt sighed out the smoke before he could think about it. Ryan wrinkled his nose, leaning back to escape the worst of the cloud, and Matt realized he would do pretty much anything to get him to come back. 

“Okay, now you catch mine.” Matt hadn’t meant to sound so… out of breath. He pinched the blunt from Ryan’s fingers and pulled until he felt his esophagus singe. “Now you co-” he started, but Ryan was already there, tilting his head just slightly so their noses didn’t bump. Matt tried to breathe slowly, and hoped he didn’t still have puke breath. Ryan’s hand had gone back to his knee, but now it was moving… upwards. Just barely inching along the inside of his thigh. 

Ryan blew his own secondhand smoke out of the corner of his mouth, away from both their eyes. “You know I‘m not just trying to teach you a smoke trick.” Their faces were still very close. Matt could feel every puff of breath against his lips. He didn’t dare open his eyes, not that he even knew when he’d closed them, and he could taste the beat of his pulse in his throat.

“Is that so?” Bravely, he butted his forehead lightly against Ryan’s, the tips of their noses brushing. “I don’t know why you didn’t just jump straight to the hardcore fucking.” Still joking, even now when Ryan’s hand was kneading at the inside of his leg, turning Matt’s brain into jelly. 

“Wanted to romance you a little.” One more breath, and then they both had pretty much the same idea. Ryan grabbed the blunt first, setting it in the ashtray before they could light the whole house on fire. It felt practiced, the way Matt’s hands cupped each side of Ryan’s face, how easily Ryan’s arm looped around Matt’s waist, drawing them chest to chest. Kissing Ryan was new every time it happened. Better too. This was the first… real one, real in the sense that neither of them were even putting up the pretense of a joke. To themselves or anyone else. 

They had never gone this far, either. Maybe they’d lightly, chastely kiss a few times in a row. Maybe more if they were ‘performing’, an ass grab or something in poor taste. But Ryan’s tongue was sliding along the curve of his bottom lip, and the hand on his lower back didn’t feel like a joke. Matt felt drunk, crossfaded really since they were more than buzzed from Chad’s “dank Aussie kush”. Ryan’s beard was rubbing his face pink, but he didn’t care at all. Rather the opposite, he was pretty sure it was adding to his lightheadedness. 

He didn’t realize he was moving until his back hit the cushions, a few loose strands of Ryan’s hair hanging in their faces. Matt couldn’t help the giggle that bubbled out of him, quickly pressing the back of his hand over his mouth. “Sorry. It’s just… hmm. You’re hot.” He hadn’t meant to say that, but it wasn’t untrue. Half of him didn’t even care, convinced this was just the start of one of his shamefully fun wet dreams. Ryan, shockingly, looked a little bashful. If Matt wasn’t mistaken it looked as though his cheeks got a little pink themselves. 

“Look who’s talkin’.” Ryan muttered, taking Matt’s hand by the wrist and pulling it away so he could kiss him again. This new position was interesting. Ryan had him practically pinned to the couch, and it was making blood rush down to Matt’s dick. It was a little embarrassing, getting riled up that quickly, but Matt’s legs were still thrown over Ryan’s lap, and evidence of Ryan’s arousal pressed against the back of his thigh. With every slide of their lips, the whole thing started to feel more and more  _ real _ . This was actually happening. Ryan Magee had tried to woo him, and now Matt was allowed to put his tongue in Ryan’s mouth. It sounded absurd. 

“Seriously, fuck. You’re so good at kissing,” Matt pressed his hand to Ryan’s chest, gently pushing him back. “Need to catch my breath. Fuck.” Ryan beamed at him, sweet puppy dog eyes studying his surely red face. 

“You’re so cute. It’s like you don’t even have to try.” Ryan dipped his nose to nuzzle against Matt’s neck, pressing a line of kisses down the side. “Can’t believe we haven’t done this earlier.” 

“S-same.” Matt stuttered, pinching his lips together as a slew of embarrassing noises threatened to fall out of him. Ryan was not being shy about his work on Matt’s neck, now. Unless Matt found some makeup in the bathroom, everyone was going to know what happened the second they saw him. Shockingly, Matt found that he didn’t care. Just to get him back, though, Matt slipped his hand down between them, his arm just long enough to paw at the front of Ryan’s thin gym shorts. It was a bit of an awkward angle, but he managed to get the heel of his hand pressed hard against the base of Ryan’s dick. He got a few lovely grunts out of it before his hand was seized and pinned above his head, sending a new shock of adrenaline and arousal through him. 

“You’re in such a rush.” Ryan tutted, his voice soft and low, slowly interlacing his fingers with Matt’s where they were pinned. 

“I can’t help myself. I just wanna fuck your brains out already.” Matt breathed, squeezing Ryan’s hand. “Been waiting  _ so long _ , Ry.” 

“How long?” Ryan’s voice had gone down an octave. In one hand he gathered both of Matt’s wrists, and the realization of the proportions there made Matt’s stomach clench in excitement. With his other hand, Ryan dragged the waist of Matt’s sweatpants down his thighs, then pushed the hem of his shirt up until his skinny, pale sternum was revealed. This was usually the part he hated the most about sex, the idea of being so naked in front of someone else. But the way Ryan looked at him, pupils blown wide, kiss-reddened lips slightly parted, it made him feel like something worth getting a hard-on over. 

“Months. Years. So long.” Matt replied, curving his hips upwards, trying to get just a little more contact. Every part of him wanted to be flush against Ryan. Wanted to be closer than skin to skin. “Sometimes I look at you and I just want you to fuck me against the wall.” Christ, where did that come from? The way that Ryan was able to pull these truths out of him without any prodding was concerning. Matt would tell him about any of the depraved, guilty fantasies his brain had cooked up as long as Ryan promised to keep touching him. 

Ryan groaned, closing his eyes as a shiver went down his back. “Want that too. You’re so beautiful, I just wanna show you how f-fucking  _ good _ you are.” Ryan’s hand slipped easily around his cock, working it with slow, measured strokes that made Matt want to scream. He settled for a loud ‘nng’ instead, which made Ryan speed up just marginally. Matt felt like a teenager who’d lost (won?) an exceptionally good round of gay chicken, spread out and held down on a couch while his best friend jerked him off. And he wouldn’t lie, the whole arms-above-his-head thing was really, really hot, but he wanted to  _ touch _ . He was allowed at this point, he figured, if Ryan was thumbing the head of his cock like  _ that _ .

“Ry, wanna touch you,” Matt gasped, tugging slightly at the hold Ryan had on his wrists. “Please.” He was certain it was the ‘please’ that got him, because the look Ryan gave him as he let go made half of Matt convinced he could come from that image alone. As soon as his hands were free he buried them in Ryan’s hair, tugging out the elastic as gently as he could and slipping it down over his wrist before it got lost to the ether. He arched his hips up into Ryan’s hand, biting his lip to keep from moaning as he chased the mind-numbing pleasure of the friction. Tutting again, Ryan leaned down and kissed him until Matt forgot entirely about being quiet, then pulled back just as he picked up the pace of his hand. 

“Wanna hear you. Don’t hold it back, Matt.” Ryan murmured, sitting up and pressing a hand into Matt’s hips to keep them from moving. “Wanna see what you look like when I make you come.” That sentence alone was probably enough to do it, the timbre of Ryan’s voice sending shivers down Matt’s spine. He wanted to be good for Ryan, some deep part of him aching as always to please. To repay this wonderful man for all of the things he’d done, for all of the times he’d dealt with Matt’s sorry ass without a word of complaint. So he lay there and took what was given to him, even as his legs were trembling, even as all of him was trembling. He didn’t stifle anything even if it sounded embarrassing to his own ears, because with every sound Ryan’s composure seemed to crack just a little. Not that either of them were very composed to begin with. 

“Ryan I- I’m gonna c-come…” Matt had been riding the edge for as long as he could stand, but now every one of his nerves was glowing with each movement of Ryan’s hand. 

“Keep your eyes open.” Ryan practically growled, sliding his free hand up and dragging his thumb roughly over Matt’s raised nipple, beginning to circle it as Matt quickly fell apart. It was like being hit with a bus, but the bus was incredibly sexy and released a dizzying cocktail of endorphins into his bloodstream. He kept his eyes open as long as he could, holding Ryan’s gaze like a lifeline, but eventually they rolled back into his head when Ryan held him by the ribs and continued to stroke him even after they were both painted white. Matt eventually had to set his hand gently on Ryan’s wrist to stop him. Not because he  _ wanted _ it to stop, but because he was worried he might pass out if Ryan kept going, and he fully intended upon returning the favor. 

“Fuck me, you’re good at that. Spend a lot of time jerking off?” Matt grinned at him, pink and chest-heaving, undoubtedly covered in his own semen. Ryan didn’t reply, apparently too busy staring to come up with a witty reply. Matt let him, feeling embarrassed but too blissed out to care. He slipped his fingers into a soft grip around Ryan’s wrist, bringing it to his mouth and licking a stripe up his knuckles, trying not to wrinkle his nose at the taste of his own cum. Ryan made a sound halfway between a whine and a grunt, cheeks flushing as pink as Matt’s tongue. 

“Could’ve just gotten a towel.” Ryan swallowed, loudly, eyes still fixed on Matt’s face as he cleaned the rest of his mess off of Ryan’s hand. Matt snorted, pressing a final kiss to the palm of Ryan’s hand once it was clean. 

“I don’t think me wiping us off with a towel would’ve made your dick throb, though.” Matt smirked, dropping Ryan’s hand so he could return his own to Ryan’s absurdly soft hair. “Are you gonna let me get you off now? You could ask me to do literally anything to make you come and I’d probably do it, so keep that in mind.” Instead of answering Ryan just hummed, his now free hand settling itself easily on Matt’s bony, naked hip. Without warning, he bent forward and dragged his tongue along Matt’s stomach, giving it the same treatment his hand received. Involuntarily, Matt’s grip in his hair tightened, a shaky gasp springing out of him at the strange, spine-tingling sensation. 

“Not fair.” He huffed, screwing his eyes shut to keep from twitching. If he hadn’t just finished he was sure he’d be getting hard again from the feeling, warm and soft and wet along the sensitive skin of his abdomen. 

“I didn’t want you to get sticky.” Ryan replied when he was done, tugging Matt’s boxers back up over his hips. The shirt he left hiked up, sliding both hands up the bare plane of Matt’s back and lifting him back into a sitting position. “And I like watching you squirm.” 

“Already established, Ryan.” Matt muttered, carding his fingers through Ryan’s hair. He wriggled out of his sweatpants, leaving them pooled next to the couch as he shifted to straddle Ryan’s lap properly. “Seriously, I can feel that you’re holding out on me, Magee. What can I do for you?” Matt ran his hands down Ryan’s chest, pressing him back into the couch. He really could feel Ryan’s erection, distractingly large and warm against his ass.

“I— you don’t have to do anything,” Ryan started, only to get quickly shut up when Matt rolled his eyes and then his hips. Ryan’s hands flew to Matt’s waist, not stopping him, just holding on for what seemed like dear life as Matt did it again. 

“But I  _ want to _ , Ry,” Matt purred, leaning in to nuzzle against Ryan’s neck. “Want me to suck your dick? I owe you from all those empty threats I’ve made.” The shaky sigh that Ryan let out after that was something Matt would cherish, and probably jack off to, for the rest of his life.

“I- I mean if you  _ really  _ want to…” Ryan murmured, and Matt had the distinct pleasure of watching his eyelids flutter closed at a particularly cruel movement of his hips. “I definitely wouldn’t say no.” 

Matt snorted, nuzzling against Ryan’s cheek and peppering it with kisses. He didn’t bother to say anything else, just slid off Ryan’s lap onto the floor in front of him. He adjusted himself on his knees, gently spreading Ryan’s in order to settle himself between them. “Shorts off.” 

Despite Matt’s soft tone, Ryan didn’t hesitate. He slipped his thumbs under the waistband and lifted his hips, slipping them down in one smooth motion. Now, all that was between Matt and the hot, solid erection in front of him was a thin layer of cotton that left little to the imagination. Oddly, Matt had never felt more powerful. Maybe it was the way Ryan’s legs fell open for him so easily, the way he looked at Matt like he was in the middle of hanging up the stars. 

Matt was a lot less patient than Ryan. He was bad at teasing, he liked getting to the main event too much. So he wasn’t shy about gripping Ryan through his underwear, leaning in to press his tongue against the head where it strained against the fabric. Ryan’s hand flew to the back of Matt’s neck almost reflexively, obviously trembling as he held back the desire to grip with as much force as he wanted to. Matt couldn’t help but smile, stealing a glance up at Ryan as he loosely dragged his hand up and down the shaft. But there was still that hunger in his chest, ever-growing and never satisfied. He wanted to touch, spread his fingers over the curve of Ryan’s stomach while he got acquainted with the back of Matt’s throat. 

“You can like, actually hold on if you want. I’m not gonna break, dude.” Matt mumbled, tracing his fingers up the back of Ryan’s arm until he reached the wrist, grabbing it and guiding the strong fingers into his hair. 

“Maybe not break, but I don’t want to… to hurt you.” Ryan said it so quietly, like he was worried just by saying it Matt would cry out in pain. He scratched his fingers lightly against Matt’s scalp, shifting lower on the couch so that his hips inched even closer to the edge of the couch. 

“If you’re hurting me I’ll say so. I want you to have fun too, y’know.” Matt’s patience for foreplay ran out, and he tugged down Ryan’s boxers as he talked. “Well, if you’re hurting me and I don’t like it.” 

“You’d better.” Ryan grumbled, hissing through his teeth as Matt finally, finally sank his mouth down onto Ryan as deep as he could, completely without preamble. He was a little shocked by how far he got before gagging, covering the remaining skin with his fist. Dragging his tongue up the underside of Ryan’s dick, he forced his mind away from how strange it felt, and instead focused on the tight sigh that came from above him. He pulled off with a pop, letting a little bit of spit hang from his lips as he continued to work Ryan’s dick with his fist.

“Why didn’t you tell me,” Matt hummed. “That you have such huge dick?” 

Ryan laughed, breathless, pushing back the mousy brown hair falling over Matt’s forehead. “It never came up.” 

“Well it’s certainly up now.” Matt smirked a little at his own bad joke, pulling his hand back and spitting into his cupped fingers. He wasted no time slicking Ryan up, watching enthralled as his hand moved up and down Ryan’s cock. “Y’know, if you were so concerned about me making noise, you should open up too. It’s only fair.” He looked back up at Ryan, who looked like an absolute  _ mess _ . His hair was a messy halo around his shoulders, cheeks pink and flushed, his lips pressed tightly together, probably to keep himself quiet. 

“ _ Matt _ ,” was his only reply, soft and breathless as Matt sank his mouth down over Ryan again. He realized quickly that he didn’t really have any idea what he was doing, so he just tried to mimic what he usually liked on himself. His tongue was doing most of the work, in tandem with the fist still working the lower two-thirds of Ryan’s cock. He didn’t even think he’d been at it for very long when he felt a warning tug on the back of his head. 

“ ‘m gonna come, Matt, fuck.” He was certainly good at hiding it, then. Either that or Matt had been too engrossed in not letting his teeth get in the way to notice. The tug was an obvious cue for him to move, but the more he thought about it, the more he wanted Ryan to finish in his mouth. Just the thought threatened to make his own dick twitch back to life. So he just hummed, sinking his mouth down as low as he could without gagging, pumping his fist faster while his free hand trailed lazily up the inside of Ryan’s thigh. This seemed to do it, because moments later the bitter, salty taste hit his tongue and Ryan let out a low, measured groan, hips bucking just slightly into Matt’s mouth in the most delicious way. As payback, Matt didn’t stop his movements right away, swallowing around the head until Ryan’s thighs were trembling. He had to pull Matt off by the hair, chest heaving, his head tipped back to face the ceiling, but Matt could still see the loopy smile on his face. 

“Jesus Christ, dude.” Ryan said, looking down again and cupping Matt’s face in both his hands. “You are…” he couldn’t find the words, just shook his head and bent over to smack a kiss against Matt’s cheek. It shook him back into his body, tingling in every nerve when he turned his head just so and Ryan pressed their lips together again without a word. Soon, though, he was pulling up his shorts and hauling Matt up into his lap, nosing into Matt’s neck and drawing him close, as close as he could. The silence was… normal. Matt had been expecting, almost dreading, the awkwardness that he was sure would come afterwards, it was the one part of the pathetic little fantasy that played out in his head that he could never figure out. What would they do once things shifted, irreparably, in a new direction. He’d been expecting a cold shoulder, muttered thanks for the use of his mouth, maybe a few stolen and guilty kisses after they’d both got off. 

What he wasn’t expecting was to be held like Ryan suspected at any moment one of them would be shipped off to war. He had his face hidden in Matt’s neck, but from the grip on his waist and around his back, he could feel… trembling. Ryan was shaking, almost imperceptibly, and the breath against Matt’s neck felt all-too measured. He shifted in Ryan’s lap, taking Ryan’s face in the palms of his hands, shocked to find his fingers wetted with tears. They ran silent and thin over Ryan’s cheeks, disappearing into his beard, his eyes glistening as he looked at Matt like no one  _ ever _ had. 

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong? If you cry I’m  _ definitely  _ going to cry,” Matt breathed, brushing the drops away with his thumbs. He wanted to kiss them away instead, dissipate the salt with his lips until Ryan forgot what he was crying about. Ryan laughed wetly, shaking his head slightly and squeezing his hands into Matt’s skin, like a lucid dreamer checking reality. It made Matt want to kiss him even more. 

“I just… I didn’t ever think you’d, I dunno. Want— me.” Ryan’s voice cracked somewhere towards the end of his sentence, and it broke Matt’s heart to hear him so thoroughly  _ convinced _ . It reminded him so much of himself it was almost funny. Words, he decided, were not nearly fast enough or good enough at conveying what a stupid, absurd, bat-shit insane thought that was; so instead he pulled Ryan back in and kissed him, pressing the whole length of his body as tightly to Ryan’s as he could. 

“Always wanted you, stupid. I have since the day I met you.” This was probably a little sappy, but Ryan was already crying, so really what could make it worse. There was an ice-cold ribbon of nerves in his gut now, begging him to shut up and keep his filthy secrets to himself, but Ryan had to know that he  _ meant it _ . 

“I- it’s more than just  _ want,  _ Ryan, I  _ need you _ .” Matt swallowed, impressed he’d managed to get it out without too much stuttering. It had always felt so ugly when it sat inside him, that need, but the way Ryan’s eyebrows lifted when he said it gave him courage enough to keep talking. “And I know that’s— that’s a lot to put on you, but I’ve never… I’ve never loved anyone like how I love you.”

It felt like there was dry oatmeal stuck in his throat, like he might suffocate if Ryan didn’t say something soon. The longer the pause between words, the longer Matt had to wish he knew when to shut up. He’d been too sentimental, too open with his icky emotions, and now Ryan was going to laugh at him, or worse, not say anything at all. Just as he was beginning to seriously consider fleeing like a wounded animal, Ryan nodded, gripping the back of Matt’s neck and guiding their foreheads softly together.

“Fuck, dude, same.” They both giggled, and Matt noticed that his eyes were welling up without any input from him at all. Relief washed over him like the tide, saltwater filling his nose and mouth. It was perfect, drowning in something that didn’t hurt, for once. “Really, though. I mean, I don’t mean to make a mountain out of a blowjob, but fuck, Matt, I love you too.” 

“Can’t believe you just said ’blowjob’ in the same sentence as  _ I love you _ .” Matt sniffled, but the fear was leeching out of him like dye fading in the sun. It was okay that he felt the way he did. He still had no idea what he’d done to deserve Ryan’s  _ love _ , but he wasn’t about to question it. He’d just have to keep trying to earn it, like he did every day. Now though, he had the advantage of being able to kiss his way through it. 

“What d’you wanna do now?” Ryan asked, tipping his head so that their noses bumped together. Matt hummed, sliding his hand through Ryan’s hair and starting to comb it with his fingers. 

“I don’t know, are you too weepy to have sex again? I think I might be.” Ryan laughed, the high, clear, practically copyrighted Magiggle that’d stolen Matt’s heart in the first place. 

“I think we’d probably get interrupted anyways. I don’t think they’ll be out for much longer.” 

“If Chad doesn’t have to go to the fucking ER for alcohol poisoning.” Matt muttered. Once he was satisfied with his detangling of Ryan’s hair, he looped his arms around Ryan’s neck and tugged him impossibly closer, leaning down and blowing a raspberry into the skin where his neck and shoulder met. Ryan made a disgruntled noise of surprise, and needled his fingers into Matt’s ribs as payback. 

“Weirdo. We could go meet up with them, if you wanted. We were invited, after all.” He couldn’t see Ryan’s face, but he could hear the smile in his voice.

“Well, to quote someone I know with a huge cock, that’d require getting off the couch.” Matt replied, his lips brushing against the skin of Ryan’s shoulder as he talked. It made him want to kiss it, so he did. He hoped he never started to take that for granted. Ryan chuckled, leaning over to the ashtray where the blunt had long-since burnt out and picking it up. He pulled a lighter from his pocket and sparked it, rolling the tip over the flame until it lit. 

“Might as well get comfortable, then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you if you've read this far! There's a good chance I will add an epilogue as a separate chapter later, but if you want to really bully me into writing more, comments are always appreciated. Anyways I love you I hope your week is good, you can find me on tumblr @alleninwunderland if you wanna send me love/hate mail.


	4. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's here! The little epilogue that turned into a much larger epilogue than I'd planned for. Happy new year!

Neither of them had any idea what an appropriate amount of time was for them to sit on the information before telling their friends they were dating. It felt strange to make a big deal about it, it was hardly even a huge change for the two of them. They still worked together and argued about stupid shit and saw bad movies together just for an excuse to go to the theatre. Only now, they could hold hands in the carefully curated darkness, and Matt could kiss Ryan to distract him from their arguments about smooth or crunchy peanut butter.

They definitely weren’t in a rush to spread the news, they both agreed on that much. Coworkers only at first, nothing on social media. It was nice to have something… private, just for them and nobody else. Of course, Jackson and Harrison might’ve noticed something up already, Matt was spending a decent amount of time in the quiet privacy of Ryan’s house instead of at his own. But then again, that wasn’t too unusual, it’s just that now Matt didn’t have to worry about getting morning wood while they were sharing a bed. In the first three weeks they’d been home, Matt had managed to sleep over enough to warrant his own separate toothbrush just to keep at Ryan’s. It was presented to him like a prank, because it was still Ryan and they both had the humor of twelve year olds. Ryan had wrapped the package in newspaper and taped a note on it that just said “dildo”, then he left it by the sink for Matt to find. It was bright tennis-ball green, and looked just a little bit fancier than any toothbrush he’d ever bought for himself. 

“They didn’t have any adult sized My Little Pony ones.” Ryan had said, guiding Matt’s toothpaste-covered cheek into a kiss. The first few weeks were full of these stupid almost-wholesome gifts, mostly from Ryan, but Matt managed to shock him speechless with a comically huge refill for the long-empty lube bottle Ryan had been smacking the dredges out of like ketchup for almost as long as they’d been together. They’d just finished making use of their rich new resource when Matt realized it had been exactly a month since they… figured their shit out. 

“It’s been a whole month, now. Feels like longer. And shorter, weirdly,” Matt murmured into Ryan’s chest, his phone resting in the divot between Ryan’s pecs as he scrolled through his Snapchat memories. Ryan hummed, his brain still clearly floating somewhere a few feet out of his body, probably looking down and astrally staring at the bare expanse of Matt’s back, if his tone was anything to go by. Matt lingered on a picture of the two of them in the Sydney airport, Ryan slumped over into his shoulder while they waited for their red-eye home. Ryan had his brow tightly furrowed, like looking stern would cause all the bright lights around their gate to dim, and Matt looked every bit like the stupid-happy moron he was. 

“Do you think we should… tell them? Sometime soon, at least?” Matt said, which made Ryan open his eyes enough to glance down. He shrugged, drawing his arm from Matt’s waist to encircle his shoulders, hugging them tightly. 

“I mean, if you want to. I don’t have any issue with it.”

“It just feels weird not saying anything at this point. And it’s not like they’ll care.” Matt knew this, logically, but the thought of actually doing it and saying the words ‘Ryan and I are dating’ out loud made his stomach clench. Maybe because it brought him to the inevitable, the time when they’d have to tell their parents. And the world at large. That was definitely not something he was looking forward to. 

“Baby steps.” Ryan replied, like a fucking mind reader, only to pluck Matt’s phone out of his hand and toss it towards the nightstand. “We’ll make a plan tomorrow. Just go to sleep.” And Matt, because he was a sucker, did just that. 

  
  


______________________________________________________________________________________________________________

  
  


They decided to take the twins, Carson, and a conveniently visiting Justin to dinner after work to tell them a week or so later, and Matt felt sick the entire day leading up to it. He’d picked a bad time to quit nic again, so he was stuck chewing gum and toothpicks and his nails instead of catching a nervous buzz. Ryan was acting remarkably nonchalant about the whole thing, considering it was the first thing he announced to everyone when he got to the office that morning, two Starbucks cups in hand. They were all having dinner, company expense, no excuses. When the time finally came as five o’clock rolled around, the two of them carpooled to the restaurant and Ryan was kind enough to keep his hand planted on Matt’s knee as much as he could. 

“Do you want to like… game plan?” Ryan asked, his voice all soft as he glanced from the road to Matt and back again. Matt felt a little guilty for monopolizing the anxiety about the situation, and wondered briefly if Ryan was downplaying his own worries to soothe Matt’s delicate ego. 

“I mean… I think trying to like, plan for the exact moment we do it would just make things weird.” Matt settled his hand over the one on his knee, smoothing his thumb down the length of Ryan’s index finger. “But if you like— did most of the talking, I think things would go smoother.” 

“Course. If you notice a moment that feels right and you think I’m gonna miss it, just kick me under the table.” Ryan said, smirking, and pulled Matt’s fingers to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to the back of his knuckles. Warmth spread down Matt’s arm like blood poisoning, and he had to look away before it got to his heart and he said something cringe. “It’s gonna be fine. I’d honestly be shocked if someone doesn’t end up winning money off this whole thing.” 

The rest of the car ride was silent, Matt tilting his head up to the heavens so he didn’t stress-puke while Ryan rubbed his knee like a worry stone. They got there first, so they were able to get a table far enough away from other people that they didn’t have to worry about some old person making a face at all their toilet humor, which came in handy when Jackson greeted the two of them with an update on the pit stop their carpool had made for ‘Carson’s _monster_ shit’. Their waitress very clearly wanted nothing to do with them, so she was quick about getting everyone’s orders as soon as they’d all sat down, and then left them to their own devices. Matt couldn’t get his leg to stop bouncing. Every time he tried, the second his mind strayed back to anything but keeping his heel planted on the ground, it would start again. Most everyone else was drinking, but either out of solidarity with Ryan or again, the desire to not throw up, he stuck with water. 

The moment didn’t come until nearly the end of the evening, when they’d eaten and talked each other into a coma. Conversation, while amicable, was thinning, and there were pauses between topics long enough to make Matt’s stomach lurch. But like a Tolkienian wizard, the moment was neither early nor late, it arrived exactly as it was supposed to. Matt was gripping his water glass like a stress ball, his non-bouncing leg pressed firmly to Ryan’s from knee to ankle, and a thread of conversation comparing Skate 4’s controls to Tony Hawk Pro Skater’s (which wasn’t even a competition, in Matt’s opinion) lulled to a stop. The air buzzed in Matt’s lungs as he breathed in the silence, his eyes boring a hole in the tablecloth as he begged someone else to talk, but knew that they wouldn’t. This was it. He was about to nudge Ryan with his foot, just to rip the fucking band aid, but he didn’t have to. Ryan cleared his throat, slipping his fingers into Matt’s after he managed to pry them from the leg of his jeans. 

“So, Matt and I did actually have a point to buying you guys a bunch of sushi, we don’t really like you _that_ much.” Ryan started, getting a few snorts as he set his and Matt’s intertwined hands on the table. Ryan took a deep breath, and Matt squeezed his hand. He wished he was brave enough to do it, but there was bile in the back of his throat and Ryan had already started anyway. “We wanted to tell you that we’re… together. Like for real, not as a bit. We’re disgustingly in love.” 

Matt couldn’t help but snort to himself, covering his face with his free hand, even as his stomach filled with toxic amounts of butterflies. It was a pretty good announcement, Matt thought. Couldn’t have said it better himself. He moved his eyes from the spot on the wall just past Tucker’s head that he’d been staring at so he wasn’t just staring at the table, and physical waves of relief rippled through him as he looked around and saw nothing but grins and knowing smiles. Harrison was digging in his pockets.

“Congratulations!” 

“Fucking finally.”

“Hands down, best news I’ve heard all day.” 

They all spoke on top of each other, every one of them so eager to praise the ‘happy couple’ for coming to their _fucking senses, finally!_ Harrison handed Jackson a twenty, sighing as he tucked his wallet back into his pocket. 

“I’m very happy for y’all, for the record.” He said, obviously and poorly fighting down a smile. “The bet was that you’d announce it by the end of this month.” 

“You knew?” Matt asked, feeling a little silly as he said it. Both of the twins fixed him with a long-suffering look. “Yeah, yeah alright, but I live with you guys, you have unfair intel.” 

“I think you’re overestimating how much ‘intel’ is needed to figure out that you two are fucking,” Carson said, and Matt was so taken aback he just tossed his head back and laughed. It was true, really, it’s not like they’d been hiding it now that he looked back on it. “But still, that’s awesome. Good for you guys.” 

“And obviously like, we’re not tryna like, let fucking Twitter know or anything,” Justin chimed, glancing around at the others, who nodded in immediate agreement, everyone rolling their eyes at the just mention of that fucking website. Matt couldn’t convey how grateful he was for all of his stupid, wonderful friends with words and didn’t want his motormouth to run off with him for once, so he just turned to Ryan and trusted him to say something intelligent for the both of them. 

“Yeah, please, I really don’t need any more drawings of my cock in my Twitter mentions. My mom keeps sending me angry emails about it.” Matt laughed with everyone else, because Ryan was funny and cute and _his_ , and watched with glee as the next topic of conversation came and everyone moved on. It was so simple, but not in a way that made him feel shitty for being nervous. It was simple because the people he loved had made it simple. There was nothing to say, nothing was changed, they just continued like they would after hearing any bit of good news. Still, the adrenaline crash was getting to him, and his head buzzed with the pleasant afterglow of success. 

He slouched himself into Ryan’s side, placing their still-entwined hands on his knee and resting his head heavily against Ryan’s. 

“Good job.” He said quietly, just for Ryan. He’d express his gratitude more… eloquently later, when they were alone and no one was around to make fun of him for the sappy shit he said. 

“You too.”

“I didn’t even do anything!” Matt replied, incredulous, tipping his face towards Ryan’s. This was probably a little more PDA than he’d get away with normally, but Ryan just shrugged. 

“You got through it, even though you really didn’t want to.” He fixed Matt with a gaze that turned everything in his chest soft. He really would’ve liked to plant a kiss on Ryan’s stupid face, but that could wait. For now, he untangled their hands and stole a piece of laboratory-pink pickled ginger off Ryan’s plate, popping it in his mouth and turning away to watch Justin tell a story about an abysmal Tinder date he’d gone on.

  
  


______________________________________________________________________________________________________________

  
  


Matt went home with Ryan that evening, because of course he did, and Jackson made a joke about putting Matt’s room on AirBnB for beer money before they all went their separate ways. It all felt very… normal. Average. 

The car ride home was quiet and sleepy. Matt leaned his seat back farther than he usually would and watched the street lamps fly past, palm trees silhouetted against the starless, light-polluted sky. It still seemed so beautiful somehow, but he suspected the glow of contentment inside of him might be tainting his view. At one point, a few stoplights away from the house, he sat up and leaned in close enough to smell Ryan’s shampoo, planting the kiss on his cheek that he’d been saving for later. They were at a red light, thank god, so Ryan had enough time for a slow, soft smile before he turned and pulled Matt’s mouth against his own. It was like sparking a lighter in a room full of gas. Instantly, Matt’s shocked-and-grateful attitude about the success of the evening was replaced with a hot, smoldering desire to _celebrate_. Ryan was his, he was Ryan’s, and they could spend as much time languishing in that fact as they liked. 

He managed to keep himself composed until they were through the front door, at which point he pushed Ryan up against it, crowding his hands against his _boyfriend_ ’s chest, dipping his head to drag his lips along Ryan’s cheek. It was a little up front, sure, but Matt had been staring at Ryan’s astoundingly hot side profile for at least thirty minutes, and that’d get anyone’s Jimmies rustled. 

“Eager beaver,” was all Ryan said as he took Matt by the chin and guided their lips together. Matt hummed, feeling brave enough already to skim his tongue across Ryan’s lower lip. It still hadn’t gotten old, every time he kissed Ryan he still got that little spark of adrenaline in his stomach, like licking a nine volt battery. They’d had a lot of time to figure each other out over the years, but this new dimension to their relationship was a little disorientating. Every time they had sex Matt felt like he learned something new about the way Ryan worked, whether it was a particular place on his neck that could be nipped at just in the right way or a whispered admission that burbled out of him, almost involuntary, as they lay in the sticky afterglow. Matt was sure that he had loved Ryan with as much of himself as he could before they were together, but with every passing day he felt that love growing in his chest, multiplying exponentially with each disgustingly domestic morning and headboard-rattling night.

“Knew coming out would make you horny.” Ryan muttered between kisses, skating his hands up Matt’s shirt and tugging him close by the hips. It was such an insignificant thing to say, but hidden behind the words was an understanding Matt was sure he hadn’t ever felt. It was stupid, obviously, and a joke, but it was so damn true it forced Matt to realize that Ryan spent as much time studying him as he did Ryan. And Ryan still wanted to have sex with him, somehow. 

“Everything about you makes me horny,” is what he said in reply, because getting esoteric and sappy should be saved until they’d both gotten off. Ryan smirked and started to bend at his knees, a preamble to a move Matt was getting delightfully familiar with. He barely had time to hook his arms around Ryan’s neck before he was scooped up under his thighs, wrapping his knees tightly around Ryan’s waist. “Do I weigh anything to you?” 

“It’s like holding a couple of grapes.” Ryan rolled his eyes as he finished the reference, but he was kissing Matt so soon after that it didn’t even matter. Matt liked when Ryan picked him up because it meant time with unfettered access to Ryan’s face and neck, plus ample opportunity to try and distract him as he walked. He immediately tucked his head under Ryan’s jaw and started to work wet, messy kisses over his throat, one hand sliding up into Ryan’s hair and scratching at his scalp. It got him a contented hum, and Ryan was in a good enough mood to tip his chin up for Matt as he opened the door to his bedroom. 

Maybe he was biased, but he liked Ryan’s room much more than his own. It was bigger, and quieter, and had huge windows with blinds that didn’t leak sunlight into your eyes at the crack of dawn. Ryan changed his sheets a lot more frequently too, but that was more out of necessity than anything. Matt was still occupied with staining Ryan’s neck with different shades of purple-red hickeys when Ryan dropped him flat on his back, rather unceremoniously, on the edge of the bed.

He scrambled to grab hold on some part of Ryan as he fell, catching hold of the shoulder of his shirt and using it to drag him down to mattress-level and kiss him properly. His lips were practically buzzing from the scratch of Ryan’s beard, so the soft, insistent press of his lips sent a shiver down Matt’s spine. He kicked off his shoes, knees opening automatically for Ryan to step between, and clumsily undid his own fly as Ryan did his best to turn Matt’s brain into oatmeal with his lips and teeth and tongue. He wasn’t even allowed the dignity of taking off his own pants, Ryan’s fingers were hooked in the waistband as soon as the fly was open, tugging them down over Matt’s thighs. He had to pull away to get them all the way off, hurling them somewhere on the floor and climbing over Matt’s quick-pulsed, chest-heaving frame. Matt liked this part too. Being pressed into the bed, enveloped completely by the warmth and the smell and the presence of _Ryan_. The problem was that at this point, he could barely see Ryan’s face only a few inches away from his, as both of them had neglected to bother with the light switch when they came in. That wouldn’t do.

“I feel like we need better mood lighting.” 

“I mean, there’s currently _no_ lighting, so I guess you’re right,” Ryan said, his hand lingering where it’d intertwined with Matt’s for a few more seconds before he raised himself up enough to flick on the lamp on his bedside table. The lamp had a thin, orange tee-shirt draped over the shade and whether it was intentional or not, it cast the room in such warm light Matt immediately had to pull Ryan back over top of him. “Better?” 

The light was dim and angled enough that Ryan’s eyelashes cast a shadow over his cheeks, flyaways from his bun tickling Matt’s face. Sometimes Ryan was so beautiful it hurt to look directly at him for too long. Like the sun. Matt nodded, lips parting as he noticed the kiss-bruised shade of Ryan’s. God, he was gonna fuck his brains out. 

“You’re so fucking sexy. I hate you.” Matt said, cupping Ryan’s face in his hands as he kissed him and kissed him and kissed him. Ryan chuckled into his mouth and adjusted his grip on Matt’s hip, pushing the hem of his tee-shirt up until he could press his fingertips to the skin just above the waistband of Matt’s boxers. Without warning, Ryan dug his thumb into the hollow of Matt’s hip, dragging it roughly down the line of his hip flexor, almost to his groin. If Ryan had weaknesses on his neck, Matt’s were in his hips. It drew a rough moan from Matt’s throat, heat pooling in his stomach even more suddenly than it had in the car. “I’m more naked than you. Not fair.” He huffed, sliding his hands up to tug at the back of Ryan’s shirt like he might pull it off himself. 

Ryan laughed, sitting back on his knees and yanking his standard-issue black tee shirt over his head as requested. Matt had seen him shirtless a lot, almost as much as he’d seen him fully naked, but it still made his stomach clench and his breath stutter out of him. They all had their insecurities, sure, but Matt had never understood Ryan’s obsession with his weight. He looked _good_ , he looked strong and solid and obscenely masculine, and following the smattering of body hair that began on his broad chest and didn’t stop until it was cut off by the waist of his shorts… well, Matt had to swallow a lot of excess saliva very suddenly. Ryan didn’t give him much more time to think, though, because he was bending down again, one hand pressing insistently against Matt’s growing hard-on through his boxers while the other slid up his stomach, pulling his shirt with it. 

He didn’t even try to resist the temptation to arch his hips up, a soft little noise pushed out of him when Ryan grinned and matched the strength of Matt’s hips with his hand. So Matt did it again, and this time Ryan’s fingers tightened around the outline in his boxers. It was dizzying, and he could hear his own already-rough breathing echoing back at him as it bounced off the paper-thin drywall, but he didn’t want it to stop. He urged Ryan closer, hooking his leg over Ryan’s hip and digging his heel in just a little. Ryan smirked. 

“Always in such a fucking hurry.” He murmured, leaning in to kiss his way up Matt’s cheek. He’d managed to get Matt’s shirt up around his collarbones, and without another word he ducked his head and took one of Matt’s nipples into his warm mouth. Matt inhaled sharply, gripping white-knuckled at the back of Ryan’s neck as his tongue started to move, circling Matt’s nipple in a hypnotically deliberate pattern. The hand on his dick stayed frustratingly still, like Ryan was drawing all his senses to one spot at a time. More annoying still, it was working. Matt had never really been on the receiving end of this kind of attention, whereas Ryan was obviously used to giving, sucking and licking and doing all sorts of things that made Matt blush to even think of. Like many places on his body, he hadn’t expected them to be so sensitive until Ryan got his mouth involved. At one point Ryan scraped his teeth over the now-hardened bud, sending staticky shivers of shock and pleasure straight to Matt’s dick. He wasn’t even ashamed to say he moaned, squeezing Ryan’s shoulder as he felt his dick twitch in interest. 

“You gonna fuck me sometime in the next decade?” Matt said once he’d regained his ability to speak, smiling to himself when he saw Ryan pause as if to consider. 

“Maybe if you ask nicely.” Matt’s heart quickened, Ryan’s voice was low and full of heat, and when he looked up at Matt the air seemed to buzz with tension once their eyes met. He wasn’t really as unaffected as he’d seemed, per usual. 

“Yeah?” Matt grinned, sliding his hands into Ryan’s hair. “Want me to beg for it, huh?” 

“Might make things go faster,” Ryan replied, slipping both hands into the waist of Matt’s boxers and tugging them down, leaning over to his nightstand while Matt wiggled them the rest of the way off. He did away with his shirt too, tossing it at Ryan’s face just as he turned back, lube in hand. 

“Just ‘might’? I need a more concrete deal than that,” Matt said, relaxing back onto the pillows as Ryan flipped the cap off the lube and poured a generous puddle over his fingers. The sight was enough to make Matt scoot down the pillows, opening his knees just a little wider for the fucking gorgeous man kneeling between them. 

“Then you should start talking.” Ryan wasted no time, pressing slicked fingers up and against Matt much more suddenly than he’d been expecting. His eyes fluttered shut, and for a moment all he could feel was Ryan, overshadowing the chill of the air or the scratch of blankets on his naked skin. The touch was light and slick, circling around his hole in an uninterrupted spiral. When Ryan started to dip the tip of his finger _in_ , Matt lost his breath completely. Ryan smirked, his un-slicked hand sliding up the inside of Matt’s thigh. “Come on, Matt. Tell me what you want.” 

“Want you to fuck me, Ry. Wanna feel your huge fucking cock inside me.” His voice was rough, even to his own ears, and his eyes were screwed shut so tight his brow was furrowing. It was just so _good_ , imagining those beautiful, deft fingers pushing deeper and deeper into him, stretching him open. The fire in his stomach seemed unquenchable now, only growing in intensity with each flex of Ryan’s finger. “Christ. Want you to hold me down and fuck me until I can’t fucking talk anymore. Make me forget my own fucking name.” 

Ryan was obviously into it, even if he wasn’t saying much. Matt heard his breath get a little heavier, his hand clenched into the yielding flesh of Matt’s thigh. He tended to go a little quiet, let Matt’s motormouth fill the silence for the two of them with all the filthy, head-swimmingly sexy things they were both thinking. After dribbling a little more lube into his hand, he pressed back inside and crooked his finger just so, nudging suddenly and unrelentingly against Matt’s prostate. 

Matt cried out, supremely shocked, thighs clenching around Ryan’s waist, his mouth hung open at the sudden barrage of liquid-hot pleasure hitting his brain. Usually Ryan made him wait so _long_ , teasing endlessly around it and watching Matt whine before finally indulging him with that intoxicating press of his fingers. Apparently this time, though, his intention was to turn off Matt’s natural inclination toward not shutting the fuck up. After a few seconds of this he added a second finger, then a third in quick enough succession that Matt’s rim burned with the stretch. It felt so good he was having trouble keeping his spit in his mouth, his whole body bouncing as Ryan fucked into him fast verging on hard with his fingers. It’d be a little quick, maybe, if they didn’t do this so often. Matt‘s body was becoming hedonistically accustomed to fitting Ryan inside him.

“What’s the magic word, Matthew?” He didn’t know why Ryan using his full name made him shudder, but it did. At first he only responded with a weak gurgle, which made Ryan snort and start to rock his fingers in and out more slowly. “No, not that one. Use your words.” 

He had to wrestle his mouth back under his control, forced to start from scratch when Ryan brushed the pads of his fingers over Matt’s prostate. “Please, Ryan, _please_ fuck me,” He panted, forcing himself to meet Ryan’s eyes again even though he could _feel_ how red his face was. “Pretty pretty please will you fuck the shit out of me?” 

The look on Ryan’s face was priceless, and not in the way he usually meant it. His lips were wine-red and his dark eyes shone a honeyed gold in the lamplight, twinkling like he was as drunk off the atmosphere as Matt was. It made all that sticky-sweet love in Matt’s stupid chest tighten. He watched Ryan shake his head slightly, watched his Adam’s apple bob beneath the stubbly skin of his throat as he swallowed. 

“How do I ever say no to you?” Ryan breathed, quickly leaning down to cover Matt’s face in kisses, like maybe if he were fast enough Matt wouldn’t notice the way his eyes had widened, like he hadn’t been expecting his messy thoughts to spill out like that. But he had seen it, and it made the love-taffy constrict all of Matt’s organs at once. Ryan was too good. Too sweet and funny and patient for Matt. He kept expecting _something_ to go wrong, to find evidence that Ryan didn’t feel the same way he did, that he was doing something wrong, that he was too much, that he wasn’t enough, that he was too brainless and loud-mouthed and clingy. Granted, this brand of insecurity hardly started with Ryan, but with him the stakes just felt so much higher. People could (and had) say all sorts of nice things to him, make whatever platitudes they wanted, but no one had ever been able to make him feel that they meant it. That they did love him. That it wasn’t just talk. Usuallly at the end of the day, he rarely had anything to show for his attempts at reaching out save for a stomach full of guilt and embarrassment. He had begun to think he would live the rest of his life like that, untethered from the people he loved. Floating, weightless but filled with a heavy dread, looking down at his own body while it rotted alone in his bedroom. 

But unfailingly, Ryan proved him wrong. 

“Love you so much,” Ryan muttered, his breath hot on Matt’s cheek as he tugged down his gym shorts, and Matt could _feel_ it. Not necessarily because he could also feel Ryan’s erection pressing against his ass, though it certainly helped. It was the way his voice trembled slightly when he said it, like he was still as nervous as Matt was. It was the way he pushed himself inside of Matt, achingly slow, inching centimeter by centimeter until he could see the minor discomfort on Matt’s face fade away into desperation. It was all in how he pushed Matt’s leg over his shoulder (better leverage) and turned his head just to press his lips against the inside of Matt’s knee. Before Ryan, no one had ever really bothered to kiss him anywhere other than his face. Maybe his dick or his neck if the moment was right. But Ryan had an affinity for planting his lips on whatever parts of Matt he could reach. His knee was a more common place, because they were boring idiots who liked missionary, but Ryan wasn’t picky. So far, Matt had received kisses on his ankles, calves, the backs of his knees, his ribs, his wrists, the palms of his hands, and so many others he was probably too blissed out to have noticed. Ryan hadn’t necessarily covered every inch, but that seemed to be his end goal. 

“You okay?” Ryan said, one hand brushing over Matt’s cheek while the other gripped his hip. They were flush together, Ryan bottomed out inside of him, hips pressed against Matt’s skinny ass. It was nice of him to check in, but Matt really didn’t feel the need to take things slow. He was better than okay. The fullness was addicting, it pushed the breath and the fear and the hesitation out of him until there was no more room for anything but _Ryan._ Matt nodded lazily, grinning wide and pushing his hips back into Ryan’s, encouraging. 

“‘M good. So fucking good.” He replied, hooking one arm around Ryan’s neck, the other one busy curling his fist into the sheets. Ryan still wasn’t moving, so Matt blearily opened his eyes enough to look up at him. His gaze was fixated on Matt, studying his face intently, like he was going to get quizzed on it later. It made Matt blush, his cock twitching a little from the positive attention. “Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” 

“Can I?” Ryan breathed, eyebrows shooting up to his forehead. Matt’s did too, before he could stop it, which made Ryan wince. “That was a joke. You were joking. Got it.” 

“I mean— as- as long as you’re not taking a picture of like, your dick in my ass. I guess don’t mind.” Matt soothed, even though he could feel his face turning pink at the thought. It was incredibly flattering, obviously, and Matt was really rather inclined to let Ryan do whatever he wanted, especially when he looked as painfully fuckable as he did in that moment. He placed both hands on Ryan’s cheeks, quirking one side of his mouth up into a smirk. “Sounds like something you’ve thought about before.” 

Ryan turned away, or at least turned his eyes since Matt had hold of his face. He looked almost guilty, which wouldn’t do at all.

“You’re just… really pretty. Handsome. I like looking at you, and you _never_ want to take serious pictures of yourself.” Ryan rolled his eyes and pouted and Matt was already considering how to look at least a _little_ sexy for the pictures he was sure he’d be in as soon as Ryan found his cell phone. It was true, he hated trying to take non-ironic selfies almost as much as Ryan, so he knew how awful it was to have a complete dearth of pictures to stare at when they couldn’t sleep next to each other for a few days. 

“I’m giving you free reign to take as many as you want. As long as no one’s genitals are visible. And on the condition that I can take them too, whenever I want.” Ryan’s face immediately cracked open with a smile, and he stooped to press a smattering of kisses all over Matt’s face. His hands were on Matt’s ribs, dancing up his sides as Ryan gave him a frankly unsensible amount of beard burn considering he was probably about to get his picture taken. Sure enough, Ryan gently eased himself out of Matt and leaned over the edge of the mattress, fishing around in his discarded shorts until he found his phone. Matt gritted his teeth and looked at the ceiling, entirely too aware of his reddened and naked skin and messy hair and acne scars. “I’m immediately regretting this.” 

“You shouldn’t, you look…” Ryan trailed off, eyes glued to the screen of his phone. Matt eventually had enough courage to look back at Ryan, and watched his thumb tap the screen a few times as he did. Matt was so busy trying to look candid and smitten and not repulsive he didn’t notice Ryan’s spare hand sneak down between them until there was that familiar warmth on his hole and then suddenly he was _full_ again. He made a noise halfway between startled and delighted, and Ryan grinned to himself, eyes still on his phone, and it didn’t take long for Matt to figure out what just happened. 

“Did you _seriously_ just take a picture of my ‘oh fuck you’re inside me’ face, dude?”

“No genitals are visible.” Ryan said, and tossed his phone in the direction of his nightstand. “Now, where were we?” 

“You were taking so long to start fucking me I almost lost my boner.” 

“Oh, yeah, that’s right.” 

  
  


______________________________________________________________________________________________________________

  
  


Ryan liked cold showers, while Matt usually took his scalding hot. The little cubicle of a shower in Ryan’s house was too small to take turns while one of them cowered in a corner, so the dial stayed just over this side of lukewarm, enough to fog up the mirror and the panes of wavy glass that enclosed them. Matt still felt a little flushed from their previous activities, so for once he wasn’t complaining about how cold it was as he hung off Ryan’s chest. His muscles were worked and heavy, and he did not envy Ryan for the nail marks streaked down his back. He hadn’t _meant_ to do it, but Ryan was bearing down into him so hard and so perfectly that neither of them really noticed at the time. 

“You should let me wash these for you. Don’t want you to get gangrene in your spinal cord.” Matt hummed, delicately drawing his finger up the curve of Ryan’s shoulder blade. They weren’t deep enough to be of real concern, obviously, but he’d jump on any opportunity to put his hands on Ryan’s skin. 

“Shoulda thought of that before you chimped out on me.” 

“I did not ‘chimp out’!” Matt lifted his chin from its place on the crown of Ryan’s head, looking down at him with a smile he was trying to turn into an offended frown. 

“Yeah? Then what would you call it?” Ryan raised his eyebrows, and Matt was momentarily distracted by the hands on his hips turning into arms as Ryan pulled him closer. 

“Being overtaken by my irritatingly profound attraction to you.” He thought a moment before adding, “And if I _had_ chimped out, you wouldn’t still have a face, by the way.”

“Tomato, tomahto.” Ryan shrugged, planting a kiss to Matt’s damp shoulder before maneuvering him under the spray of the water. “Rinse the cum off yourself first, I’m gonna wash my hair before you bathe my wounds.” 

“I’ll make sure to get that semen out of your chest hair, too.” Matt wrinkled his nose teasingly, prodding at the light smattering of it glued into the hair, slightly softened from the water. When Ryan batted his hand away, he snorted and grabbed Ryan’s unassuming bottle of drugstore body wash from the caddy hung over the shower head. In reality, or Matt’s reality at least, this body wash was one of the highlights of getting to shower with Ryan, aside from the obvious part of being naked and damp with his hot boyfriend. The scent of the soap was pretty cloying, but since the smell was so innately linked in his brain to Ryan, it’s ability to cling to everything it touched was admirable. Sometimes a full day or so later, he could lift the inside of his wrist to his nose and still smell it, cool and earthy and clean, a little reminder of the time he got to spend in that cramped, steamy little box. It motivated him to get squeaky fucking clean, to scrub the smell into his skin like an addict. He did definitely get all the cum off his stomach, though. 

“Get my back?” He asked once the rest of him was properly lathered, looking coquettishly over his shoulder at Ryan, who hummed and accepted the soap that was passed to him. He started at the top of Matt’s shoulders and worked his way down until Matt had to swat Ryan’s hands away from his ass. Eventually sudsing turned into massaging, and massaging turned to kneading, and kneading turned into Ryan digging his thumbs roughly into a knot of muscle in Matt’s shoulder. “Jesus, _ouch,_ dickhead!” 

“You have such shit posture. I knew your neck would be all fucked up.” Ryan muttered, running a final assessing touch over the muscle as Matt faced his back to the water to rinse off. “Let me get it out for you. I’ve got massage oil and everything.” 

“You’re like one of those girls who’s obsessed with popping their boyfriend’s bacne.” Matt snorted, stepping aside Ryan so he could rinse his hair, watching as the soap-suds white slowly returned to sable brown. You could really see the length of Ryan’s hair when it was wet, slicked over his shoulders in sleek black rivulets. 

“Could get that too, while I’m there.” Ryan opened one eye just to see Matt’s reaction, a smug smile on his face. Matt resisted the urge to sack-tap him. 

“No fucking way. You’d puke, then I’d puke because you did, and then it’d be a whole situation.” He’d ended up with the body wash again, somehow, so he squeezed a puddle of it into his palms and started his work on Ryan’s chest. Ryan just hummed, combing out the last of the shampoo from his hair before replacing it with a heavy layer of conditioner. Matt was happy to watch, his hands idly occupied with cleaning (exploring) Ryan’s chest while his eyes were free to wander up the taut muscles of Ryan’s arms. He watched as Ryan’s deft fingers massaged the conditioner into his scalp, as strong and sure as they’d been on Matt’s hips not thirty minutes ago. The thought made him shiver, phantom fingertips tracing the hollows of his hips, pressing royal purple bruises into his skin, shaped like the handprints of the man he loved most in this world. It made his blood simmer, and the infatuated, bliss-loopy voice that still lived in his head told him loud and clear to jump Ryan’s bones again right then and there. 

“Spin around, I’ll get your back.” He shook himself, but decided he was allowed a brush of his knuckles against the back of Ryan’s neck as he pushed some of Ryan’s hair out of the way. The scratches, or his scratches rather, looked a bit more angry than he’d remembered, raked across Ryan’s back like a crime scene. He lightly traced one line that ran all the way from the top of Ryan’s shoulder down below his shoulder blade, frowning slightly to himself. “Sorry about… these. Got carried away, I guess.” 

“What? Are you kidding?” Ryan snorted, but Matt noticed a hiss when the soap hit his back. “Hottest fucking thing ever. Plus, it’s a good indicator for me that I’m doing things right.” 

“Of course you are, moron. You could do anything to me and I’d claw your skin off like this because it’s _you_.” 

“Gay.” Ryan’s voice was soft, teasing, and when he turned his head back a little Matt saw the wry, almost shy smile on his face. Ryan didn’t often look shy, so Matt liked to take the opportunity to fluster the hell out of him when it happened. 

“Says the guy who came in his pants the first time he fingered a dude.” He drew his hands up and over Ryan’s shoulders as he said it, smoothing his hands down the center of Ryan’s back. He felt a shiver. Good. 

“Not my fault you were whining like a porn star the whole time.” Abruptly Ryan spun around, slotting his hands around Matt’s waist. “Want me to wash your hair?” 

“Sure. You sure you can reach?” Ryan rolled his eyes and pushed Matt back under the spray of the water, the taller of the two giggling incessantly. He got his hair sufficiently wet, slicking it back off his face before stooping his neck so Ryan wouldn’t have to stretch as far. Before long there were soapy hands in his hair and his eyes slipped shut. _This_ was the best part. Feeling gentle fingertips scrubbing into his tender scalp. He noticed how loosely his arms were hanging at his sides so he placed them on Ryan’s hips instead, humming when Ryan started to scratch at the nape of his neck, suds of soap dripping down his spine. If heaven were a place on Earth, this had to be it. 

“I’m really proud of you for following through, by the way,” Ryan said, his voice low and close to Matt’s ear, barely audible above the hiss of the water. He couldn’t help but snort. 

“I didn’t do shit but sit there and try not to piss my pants.” He tilted his head back under the spray when Ryan withdrew his hands, hastily rinsing out the soap so he could get Ryan’s fingers back on his scalp. 

“You keep saying that, but this whole thing was your idea. _You_ said that we should let them know, _you_ made the reservation, you practically picked the moment too, I just happened to start talking before you could kick me.” Matt wiped water from his eyes and watched as Ryan spread conditioner between his palms, and the expression on his face was oddly intense when he met Matt’s gaze. All of it was technically true, but it still didn’t feel like much in the face of… speaking it aloud like Ryan had. 

“I still made you do all the talking, like a little bitch.” Matt dipped his head, expecting the topic to pass, but Ryan didn’t move his hands. He fixed Matt with a frown, like Matt was being purposefully obtuse. 

“I wouldn’t ever’ve had the courage to do the talking if you hadn’t pushed us to come clean. Give yourself a little credit, Watson.” He pressed a kiss to the slope of Matt’s shoulder, then finally raised his hands to massage the conditioner into Matt’s hair. Matt’s eyelashes fluttered shut, and his hands went back to Ryan’s hips, drawing him impossibly closer. He made a noncommittal noise in response, mostly so he didn’t have to try and talk for a moment. Normally he’d write it off as flattery, pure and simple, but Ryan had somehow mastered the trick of getting Matt to believe it when he said nice things. It had its benefits, but sometimes it just left Matt’s deep-ingrained insecurity frustrated with running headlong into evidence that he was loved unconditionally. It was… new. 

“Well I’m proud of you too. I know it can’t have been anxiety free for you either.” Ryan pulled his hands back and rinsed them off behind Matt’s back before they settled once again on his waist. “You said everything perfectly. I knew you’d find a better way to say it than me anyways.” 

“Mm. I think you would’ve just beat around the bush for too long. You get a little over-explanatory when you’re nervous.” 

“Can’t shut the fuck up, you mean.” 

“Well, yeah.” Ryan giggled, and Matt did too, and then they were kissing again because Matt couldn’t help but kiss Ryan when he laughed now. He eventually got pushed back and told to rinse out his hair, which he did after a few encouraging nips to his bottom lip. “Wanna go on a walk with the boy? He’s definitely gotta piss like a racehorse by now.” 

Once they were out of the shower, Matt threw on a pair of Ryan’s gym shorts and a hoodie, scavenging a pair of flip flops so he didn’t have to bother with his Converse. Ryan’s neighborhood was actually fairly quiet after dark, unlike most of LA, and they were both privileged enough to be able to walk at night unmolested, especially with Lego in tow. It was not quite cool out, enough of a breeze to chill Matt’s wet hair but warm enough that he was regretting the hoodie. The street was empty as they made their way around the block, yellow street lights buzzing as much as their insect coronas. All of it felt so private somehow. Like the street had been cleared just for them, everyone put away neatly in their houses so that Matt could walk close beside Ryan and wait for their shoulders to brush. 

Well, that was a bit pathetic, wasn’t it? A private, moonlit walk with his boyfriend and all he could think to do was get in his bubble a little. That’s what he used to do, out of necessity or scarcity or desperation or whatever you wanted to call it. Why should he still be stealing scraps when Ryan’s dick was inside of him an hour ago?

But that was the thing. Sex didn’t mean Ryan was interested in being obvious about anything. Matt liked PDA, anyone with a fucking brain could guess that much, but Ryan was naturally much less clingy than he was. He’d certainly put up with it when Matt laid all over him in the past, but that was before they were… official. Would it be different now that they were actually together? It carried a different weight than when they’d do it as ‘friends’, it was real now. There were fewer and fewer opportunities to hide insecurities behind jokes. Which made talking about them a lot more difficult.

“Thinking about something?” Matt snapped his head over to Ryan and realized that he’d been on autopilot for god knows how long. Shit. 

“How could you tell?” Matt chuckled, nervously rubbing the back of his neck. Stupid idiot brain running off with him again. 

“I asked if you wanted to make a 7/11 run and you didn’t respond.” Ryan was still smiling at him regardless, and he stopped as Lego paused to smell a scraggly patch of weeds poking through the sidewalk. “What’s up?” 

“It’s nothing. Just some stupid shit.” Ryan looked thoroughly unconvinced, but he just shrugged. 

“Alright, if you say so. But I still like listening to you talk about stupid shit.” As Lego moved on and Ryan adjusted the handle of the leash around his wrist, Matt had to pry his eyes away from Ryan’s free hand. He was overthinking this. He had to be. There was no way Ryan would get _mad_ or anything. He was being ridiculous. 

Barring any further thoughts, Matt stretched out his hand and slid his fingers into Ryan’s palm, who opened his fingers to lace their hands together without hesitation. He squeezed Matt’s hand twice in quick succession, almost giddily, and Matt felt like the biggest moron on the planet. Could’ve been doing this all along if he could get himself to believe what Ryan was telling him. They were in this together, and he was allowed to be… clingy. 

“Do you ever feel like you’re always a step behind everyone else?” Ryan looked over at him, brow knitting in confusion. 

“What do you mean?” He said carefully, drawing his thumb back and forth across the back of Matt’s hand. “Is this the ‘stupid shit’ you were thinking about?”

“No, that was-- something else, it doesn’t matter. I mean like… it’s like I’m always the last one to figure something out. There are all these rules that everybody seems to know, like what’s allowed and what isn’t and what to do and when. And they all just know it and no one ever tells me, I just try to figure it out on my own but I always end up ten miles away from the correct fucking conclusion.” Matt took a sharp inhale, squeezing Ryan’s hand as he tried to stop talking long enough to catch his breath. “I don’t know. I just-- I feel like I never do anything right. Or in the right way, I guess.” 

Ryan was quiet for a moment, and Matt had to remind himself that silence did not mean rejection. Some people with better brains than him liked to collect their thoughts before they started talking. He turned his face toward the sky, wishing that there were stars to count. 

“I think you don’t give yourself enough credit, which is very like you. You’re humble to a fault.” Ryan murmured, clicking his tongue at Lego when he stopped to sniff what looked a lot like a crack pipe. “But you also don’t like asking people for help. So yeah, when you’re guessing at stuff with no help, of course you’re gonna eat shit sometimes. But you’re right when it matters. This?” He raised Matt’s hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to their conjoined knuckles. “You can’t do it more right than this, Matt.” 

“That barely even makes sense.” Matt mumbled, shy, a flush creeping up the back of his neck. Of course Ryan was able to make him feel better, he felt a little silly for trying to put off talking about it in the first place, but mostly he was just… happy. It felt good. It felt like it might stay, this time.

“And you can… ask me. If you want to.” Ryan glanced over at Matt, flashing him an easy smile. “I like helping you. I think you’ve figured that out by now.” 

“I think you get off on it.” Matt said, butting his forehead softly against Ryan’s. He laughed, leaning into the headbutt and smacking a kiss on Matt’s cheek. 

“Maybe I do. But I think you like it too.” 

“Yeah. I think I do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're reading this far, thank you! I'm terrible terrible terrible at endings, but I tried to do this one justice. Thanks for putting 23k of my words in your brain, I hope you liked at least a couple of them.


End file.
